


soul stain

by miraclesinapril



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Camboy Kim Jongin | Kai, Dirty Talk, M/M, tattoo artist chanyeol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-07-04 23:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclesinapril/pseuds/miraclesinapril
Summary: “Ssh,” he gripped her wrist and glared, craning his neck to see if Chanyeol had left the building, “not so loud.”“Oh what?” Felix said, louder than necessary, “We’re not allowed to say your boss is super attractive?”“Yeah,” Dana agreed, a wicked glint in her eyes that made Jongin groan, not you, not you, “or that he was totally giving you A Look?”“Okay,” Jongin said calmly even though the embarrassment was about to swallow him whole, “okay, okay,” he sat up, picking up his phone and the coat he shrugged off, “I’m leaving.”“No you’re not.” Sehun forced him back down, to his despair. “You’re not walking out of here until you explain to us why you never thought your hot jerky of a boss was noteworthy.”In which Jongin is a camboy looking for new avenues to explore his other passions and Chanyeol is his imposing new boss who's hard to work under, for several reasons that are purely on Jongin. Namely; the overwhelming-albeit begrudging- sense of attraction.





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo, yes it's here~~ it's taken me a while but i'm so excited for this! more tags will be added as we go so pls take heed for both our sakes. enjoy!

# PROLOGUE

Jongin walked to the door. Through the glass he could see it was relatively empty inside. A blue haired girl at the desk, a guy in all black by a counter with his back to the door. He took a step to push it forward then retreated the last second, heading away from the store completely. A few passersby gave him bemused looks but there was apprehension living in his bones and paying them much mind wasn’t on his priority list. 

His portfolio was caged to his chest like a scripture of great importance, pages of the last three months of his life pressed to his heartbeat. Figured, it was the scripture of his life now, it he was afforded the chance. 

_I can do this,_ he whispered to himself. _I can do this._ Jordan’s voice echoed assent in his mind, his friend telling him just as much this morning before he left for the shop. Going to six different shops and getting rejection after rejection took its toll in a heavy way that took him a week to recover from. Even now, it was only the ceaseless and optimistic nudging of his best friend that wouldn’t let him give in to the abyss of despair brought on by rejection that so consumed him in many aspects of his life.

_One last try. I can do this._

Months of work and planning went into it. Nights in contemplation, days clammed up in worry, torn between _it’s not right for me_ and _I’ll never know if I don’t try,_ he’d been through it all. He was here now, at their door. He should just do it. The advert said they were looking for both artists and apprentices.Yeah. He could do this. He gave himself a single vigorous nod, raised his head, mouth set rigid in determination and turned back to the door. 

And stopped himself right before he could reach for it. He continued on straight ahead this time, keeping his head down and folder clutched. He made a U-turn before he got too far, marched straight for the door. And again, his stomach swooped and he walked right past, a little ways to the bench a few stores down. He collapsed in it and fanned himself with his folder. 

Fuck, it was hard last week but at least he had been able to soldier past each stop to the next, in spite of the dismissals sandpapering his confidence at an advanced rate. Perhaps he was not ready to do this at all because it was much harder than he remembered. 

Perhaps the owners that turned him down were right. Perhaps Jordan was wrong. What if this wasn’t for him? The mediums were completely different and quite frankly, the stakes were perennial in this. Lifelong. If he was not cut out for it, if his affinity was nonexistent and he persisted, he’d be making a carbuncle of art. Who was he to do that? Ruin people’s lives like that? Right. He shouldn’t. He had no busine— 

“Good morning.” a big bulky man plopped down next to him, the wood vibrating beneath them at the force of his seating. He wore dark silver rimmed shades and Jongin couldn’t fathom why he’d need protection from the weak light, a little shy of ten in the morning on that overcast day. 

“Morning.” Jongin forced himself to reply, placing the overthinking induced panic brewing inside him to the back of his consciousness where he could deal with it as soon as this stranger left. 

The side of the man’s head that Jongin could see was shaved in an undercut and a mane of cider hair rested on the crown of his head, descending into a ponytail that reached past his nape. He wore a low cut short sleeve like it was the middle of July, leaving his inked up and bulging arms to be admired and _fuck,_ this was a jab from the universe wasn’t it? Mother Nature or Fate or whoever is sitting in their throne, spinning the events of his already shitty day and cackling at him while they were at it just to add insult to injury. 

“See something you like?” the man cocked a head at him. The corners of his lips were lifted in smugness that poked between Jongin’s ribs. He looked away quickly, hearing a faint chuckle that made him clutch his portfolio tighter. 

“Don’t feel bad. I know they look great. Wouldn’t have got them if I didn’t think so.” his gulp from the coffee cup was audible and Jongin glanced over. 

“I didn’t say they look great.” 

The man stopped drinking, a residual wet sheen on his lips, and nudged his glasses down a fraction to let his glare be known. 

Shit, maybe insulting a big tattooed man who was built like he could choke Jongin off the ground with an index and a pinky this early in the morning was _not_ a good idea. 

_But you’d like that, wouldn’t you_ snickered a voice inside and Jongin shoved the thought away.

“No, but you thought it.” the single eye that Jongin could see from that angle, though slightly bloodshot, twinkled and Jongin realized the man wasn’t glaring. He was amused, really. 

He let out a breath. 

“If that’s what you want to hear.” he gave the man a shrug, holding his head higher. 

He was rewarded with a rich rumbling laugh. 

“Compliments on my ink is something I _always_ want to hear.” 

“You did it yourself then?” Jongin turned,slightly warmed to be the source of the man’s amusement on this shitty morning and interest certainly piqued. He examined the clean lines on the man’s arm, the shocking burst of pink at the skin where the shirt sleeve cut off his upper arm and shoulder and the deep blacks and contrasting grays that covered the rest of his arm. He wouldn’t be able to comment on them professionally—yet—but it was aesthetic and grew increasingly so the more he looked at it. It was like mercury inked into his skin, the way the designs sat and shifted along with the man’s immaculately defined sinews. 

Gorgeous. Gorgeous and sexy. 

“Some of them. The ones I was able to. Had my pal do the rest. He’s not as good as me but he’s got quite a hand.” there was a small conspiratorial smile on his lips and Jongin couldn’t resist the tide pushing him to return it. 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s not even sunny.” 

“Nothing gets past you does it?” the man snorted sarcastically but Jongin just hugged his folder tighter and waited expectantly. 

“Had to attend a convention last night.” he sighs eventually, running a hand down his face and rubbing his thick, trimmed beard. “A word of advice, avoid a convention’s pub section if you’re past middle age and have to go into work the next day.” he lamented with another suffering sigh. The arm that was not grasping the coffee stretched over the backrest, all the way to Jongin’s side, and tipped his head back, presumably closing his eyes.

“I’ll remember that in a few decades.” Jongin just couldn’t help his mouth that morning. He was not normally this snarky, he promised. There was just this compulsion that stole his filter and common sense that morning, prompting him to push his luck with this man despite the very obvious size—and probably skill—difference. But his luck held out, in that regard at least, and the man gave him a good natured chuckle and a _you do that._

A thought occurred to him as he studied the meticulous design and dimension of the man’s sleeve. “Hey, you don’t happen to mean work as in Soul Stain, right?”

“The one and only. Well, not the only since we’ve expanded but yeah, precisely.” 

_“Oh.”_

“Yeah. Noticed you having a thing by the door.” he vaguely gestured at the direction of the parlour behind them, “Thought you might be an intimidated first timer.” 

“Uh… I…” lightheadedness swept in as the colour drained from Jongin. He put on a spectacle for a potential coworker or maybe even mentor. The embarrassment formed tight tension at his temples and he was so tempted to rub them out but he forced himself to keep still.

“You don’t need to worry. We don’t bite in there. I mean, the tattoo might, a little bit. But not us, you know. We’re nice.” he smiled and it was rather disarming. But Jongin was flailing internally on every level to suffer its full force. 

“I didn’t want a tattoo.” 

“Then?” there’s a pause as the man looked him over. “Ah. That a portfolio? You want work?” 

It was fortunate that the folder’s covers were thick or Jongin would’ve pinched holes through them by now. “An apprenticeship, yeah.” 

“I see. Give it here.” he set the coffee on his other side and held out a hand. Jongin deliberated, his fingers refusing to uncurl from the edge as mild terror ran its course through him. The man’s eyebrows lifted but he waited, looks over Jongin again and says, “Got any ink on you?” 

“No?” the man’s eyebrows went higher up to his hairline at his reply and Jongin’s stomach twisted. Aloud like that it sounded ridiculous to him too. What kind of tattoo artist didn’t have any tattoos themselves? He had blown it before his portfolio had even been seen, hadn’t he? 

“Why?”

He thought perhaps he should blurt out an appeasing lie, he had terrible eczema that prevented him from getting inked, oh the _tragedy,_ or something along those lines. But he wanted to start off on the right foot and going in with a lie, however much he might be turned down, didn’t sound appealing. 

“I haven’t been thinking about this tattooing gig for that long.” he shrugged, “And also figured I don’t want to put something I’ll regret on me. Case you haven’t noticed, they’re kinda forever.” the man’s lips curled at his jest and it eased Jongin into he giving up his folder at last, his insides twisting into elaborate knots as the man flipped it open and examined his artwork. He put in everything he had, from watercolours to black and greys, portraits, lettering to realism, of which was his forte, on paper at least. 

“Removal ain't so rare nowadays. Cover-ups too. But fair point.” the man said distractedly as he traced over one of Jongin’s blackwork designs. Did he like it? Have criticism against it? The man had quite a few of them on his sleeve from what Jongin could see. Did he fuck up the man’s favourite style or area of expertise? _Shit._

“So why’d you want to be a tattoo artist?” 

Again Jongin contemplated lying. Saying what he thought would be expected and appreciated like _oh you know, just think tats are sound and always wanted to put them on people._ The first part wasn’t a lie at least, but it was not his main reason so he went with the truth.

“I like sharing my art. Creating stuff for people. Their dreams and my skills, kinda like a collaboration. I like that idea.” 

The man gave a grunt and Jongin couldn’t decipher its meaning but he didn’t have long to dwell on it. “Well,” he was on the last page, “this is one hell of a portfolio. How long you been drawing?” 

“I dunno.” he fingers the seams of his sleeves, the compliment taking him by surprise and warming him inside out. “Since I was a kid? My whole life?”

“And how long has that been?” 

“Twenty five.” 

“Not bad. I’ll be honest, it’s impressive.” the man was sitting straighter now, the lighthearted air around him had grown a little stolid, authority creeping into his stance, “But being good on paper or other mediums doesn’t mean you’ll be good on skin. It’s very different and much more difficult.” 

“I know.” just like that, the nerves were swarming in the pit of his belly again and the voices of rejection, from the week before and the ones that haunted him his life buzzed like an angry relentless swarm in his mind. _Why should I take you in? What’s that gonna do for my shop? You haven’t got nothing I ain’t seen before, kid._

“I want to learn. Won’t know how bad I’ll suck if I don’t try.” 

The man said nothing and did not return his self deprecating smile. He flicked through the folder again, his silence nursing bigger unease in Jongin before he finally glanced at him.

“What did you say your name is again?” 

“I didn’t but it’s Jongin. Jongin Kim.” 

“Hm. Put your details in here.” he slid out a phone from his jean pocket and gave it to Jongin. “Mind leaving this with me? I’ll have to think about it.” he added when Jongin stared at him, perplexed.

“Think about… _Oh._ You’re the—”

“—Owner of Soul Stain, Chanyeol Park, yes. Good to meet you, Jongin.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are your thoughts? ready for some tattoo porn? lol, get it? get it? okay, bye, see you guys on friday where you can expect a longer chapter :D for now, i'm keeping it at 4 parts but honestly it might get longer.
> 
> also, i asked this a few months back but what are your porn requests? bc we'll be getting real dirty and i dont mind writing in kinks since i havent got there yet. anywho take care guys, thanks for reading uwu ♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) || [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought this chapter would be longer but it wouldve cut at an awkward place yeet enjoy lovelies

It was nearing five p.m. when Jongin’s phone rang. He let it go to voicemail, smacking his lips softly before the mirror and smoothing out the cherry lipstick he smeared on. It was almost time for his daily show and he had an inkling that was Jordan calling.

He was probably ringing to nag him for one or the other million things he thought Jongin neglected again, like accompanying him to the new club in town (Jongin promised _soon,_ not _this_ week, not his fault Jordan heard what he wanted to hear) or purchasing inane paintings for him to hang up in his relatively new place (why would Jongin want a random portrait of a Victorian baron in his home?). 

He picked up the damn thing to set it to mute and tweet out to his followers a reminder to join him on his live soon but the number flashing on his screen was not one he recognized. He paused, contemplating. It could be anyone… anyone… Privacy was becoming something of a struggle when he least needed it to be. Against the ominous tightening of his stomach, he pressed the green call button before the ringing could ceased. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello,” a deep, familiar voice said, “Chanyeol Park from Soul Stain speaking. Is this Jongin Kim?” 

“Oh,” Jongin breathed, his brain momentarily short circuiting.”Yes, hi, it’s me- I mean, yes. Jongin Kim.” 

“So you are,” Chanyeol said and though he didn’t hear it Jongin could swear the man was chuckling. “Still interested in coming to work with us?” 

“Yes,” Jongin answered, a little too swift, but it had been on his mind since the day before when he’d met the owner on that bench. Since then he’d done an extra private show, to the thrill of his patrons, unpacked the rest of his wardrobe and kitchenware and finished two watercolour pieces all in the name of keeping his speculative mind occupied and busy with anything other than the consuming thoughts of Soul Stain and its owner. 

Did he get the apprenticeship or did he not? Was his portfolio good enough despite the praise or was it something Mr. Park said to all apprenticeship seekers to let them down gently? Was he that kind of man? To let people down gently? Or did he speak his mind brashly? Jongin got a mixed reading from him, an aura none too yielding but nothing vicious. But he hasn’t always been the best at reading people, has he?

“Want to come in for a quick induction? We close soon and this is when your mentorship will typically begin from now on.” 

“Like n-now?” 

“Yeah… is there something else—”

“No, no! Of course, just give me half an hour? I’ll be there.” 

“Wonderful! See you soon, Jongin.” he hung up before Jongin could say anything else and the deep promise-sounding sentence hovered in the air. 

Soul Stain wasn’t too far out from him and he could make it in thirty minutes if he caught whatever bus was going by that moment. Tumbling out of his vanity seat, he jogged out of his room, grabbing his shoes and jacket on the way, no time to wipe off his dolled up face. As for his viewers, the best he could do at such a short notice was send out an apologetic tweet in the lift, stating that he wouldn’t be able to keep the regular schedule that day and see what he could do later and that he’d keep them posted. 

Here was a new window in his life opening and he wasn’t going to let it slam shut on him without glimpsing the other side. 

✦

A nerve wracking bus ride where his leg would not stay still and pushing through bustling Friday evening streets later, Jongin darted into Soul Stain without hesitation. He was running five minutes late as it was and he couldn’t afford a breakdown by the door like yesterday, the thought of mucking up before he even began was far more frightening than the unknown he was about to meet.

The blue-haired girl was behind a desk at the reception behind a glass merch display case, all manners of jewellery sparkling on its shelves. The girl was bent over a computer, furiously tapping away. She came face to face with Jongin as she straightened and turned to step out from behind the desk, letting out a small startled sound, hand going to her heart. 

“Sure stole in like a wight,” she said, giving him an accusing frown. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” 

“It’s grand. Well look, we’re about to close up now so if you want a walk-in, you’ll have to come back tomorrow and if it’s an appointment you’re after, you’ll also have to come back tomorrow. Most of our artists have closed shop.” 

“Oh no, I— I’m here for Mr. Park.” 

She gave him a blank look, crossing her arms. 

“I mean, for the apprenticeship? He called.” 

“Ah! You’re that lad!” her face lit up in recognition, throwing her hands up, “Why didn’t you say so? Yes, yes, I’ll go let him know that you’re here.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m Orlagh, by the way. Nice to meet ya.” 

“Jongin,” he took her hand, firm and warm, trying to return her smile.

“Back in a jiffy, you can take a seat.” she gestured to the tub leather seats behind him, a lobby of sorts, and disappeared up a set of steps behind the reception. 

The place was painted forest green and the lacquered cherry flooring glinted under the various pinlights. More lighting came from tall silver lamps, set at what Jongin assumed was the sectioned off station of each artist, the spaces cordoned off from each other by black drapes, like privacy screens in hospital rooms. 

The green of the walls tried to breathe through the frames gracing every inch of open wall. As far as Jongin could tell, the images were sketches and drawings of tattoos, perhaps some of them previous works of the artists or pages from their portfolios. The parts of the walls not decked in art held shelves brimming with supplies, mostly ink bottles and boxes that had pictures of cartridges on them. 

There were knickknacks too, on the sideboards and shelves, between the supplies and books whose spine prints Jongin couldn’t make out. Sundry small carvings, stag heads and fallow skulls, faux rusted knives, vertebrae of small creatures, miniature anvils and long black keys that looked plucked straight from a horror fairytale nailed next to the knives between the frames. 

The room was shaped like an elongated cuboid and Jongin could only see so far but he counted four workstations, their tattoo beds empty of clients, and their tables littered with pens, sheafs of paper, designs webbed on their walls, printers sitting on their desk shelves beneath. 

Perhaps it was the stratified scents of pine, patchouli and sterilization, or the atmosphere set by the setting evening sun, casting in an ambient amber glow through the entire glass wall that made up the side of the entrance, or the numerous lamps casting the same light, or the passing crowds milling about in chatter and verve, induced by the relief of the concluded work week or perhaps it was the homey, earthy feel of the shop or even something else entirely but Jongin’s wrought nerves flattened themselves into quietude. With the way the place felt like a different realm, reality just a step through the double doors away, he could see why people wouldn’t mind spending hours in those beds.

Part of trying to keep his mind of Soul Stain was, well, looking up information about Soul Stain. He learnt that they were the biggest shop in the country, with three branches, and the most revered, if the reviews on Google were anything to go by. He couldn’t find a single negative comment, a few being neutral at worst and it piqued his intrigue. Their social media pages were also filled with people raving under the posts, nothing but praise and promises to come in and get appointments, going on about how a particular artist was an _absolute legend_ and they couldn’t wait to work with them again. 

To be fair, their works merited the high praise. There were so many different artists credited under each picture finished piece and Jongin’s jaw could only unwire. They were nothing short of masterpieces. His stomach girdled at the thought that that was where he was going to work and the standards he’d have to meet. But if Chanyeol didn’t think he had it in him, he wouldn’t have called, would he? 

“Mr. Kim,” boomed a warm voice, summoned by his musing. Chanyeol descended the steps heavily and walked towards Jongin with an outreached hand. He faltered when Jongin rose to meet him halfway and Jongin wondered if he’d already taken a misstep until his new boss said, “Intercepted a night on the town, have I?” 

Jongin was further confused until it _clicked._ The makeup. “Oh. No, no, it’s just— not that.” he finished lamely, unable to bring himself to confess his main source of livelihood. He was beyond shame and there wasn’t any warranted to begin with. He did good honest work but he wasn’t in the habit of making his line of work known to strangers either, at the very least for his own safety and to elude prejudice (or worse), if nothing else. 

“Glad to see you here again,” Chanyeol bypassed the awkward noncommittal explanation, saying it like he meant it, big hands enveloping Jongin’s and taking a fraction longer than polite to let go. “How about you come upstairs with me and we can discuss paperwork and what we’ll be up to tomorrow?” 

He led Jongin upstairs which was another floor of the shop but only held two workstations and several closed doors. The interior was designed the same as downstairs, with the addition of a giant telescope sitting by the lounge chairs that overlooked the street below. 

There was a man at one of the stations, lanky and wiry, kicking a printer and muttering under his breath at it. He glanced at them when they appeared, taking more interest in Jongin than presumably his boss. 

“This the new kid?” 

“Yeah, meet Jongin. Jongin, Dermott. Speciality in neotraditional, also happens to be our body guy.” 

“Look more fit for _George’s_ down the road than here, don’t ya?” Dermott mumbled as he shook his hand while Chanyeol continued ahead to hold open one of the doors. Jongin’s cheeks heated and his tongue twisted into a perfect knot at the comment. He let go of the other man quickly, unsure how to reply, wondering if _fuck you_ was an acceptable reply. Probably not. Good thing his tongue was tied. 

If Chanyeol heard the comment, he showed no reaction, only the corners of his lips lifting as Jongin passed him in the doorway to get into what he came to know as his office. 

“Now,” Chanyeol said, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “We’ve got a lot to discuss but mainly I need you to know that you’re prepared to do whatever it takes for the next three years to learn at this shop.” 

“I am.” he was pleased to hear the firmness in his voice, despite Chanyeol’s easy aura from outside giving way to the unflinching authority he briefly witnessed the previous day. 

“All this will be in the contract but normally we offer a position here once you’ve mastered everything. However, there are some mentees that choose to start their own shop afterwards and that’s fine by me, you just have to pay the mentorship fee.” 

“And if I don’t leave?” 

Chanyeol shrugged. “There’s no fee.” he slid a drawer open and laid the file he took out before Jongin. “It’s all in there. Monday to Friday you come in regular hours to help around the shop and get a feel for things. In the evenings and on Saturday, you’re with me for some lessons.” he informed Jongin, something unbudging in his tone. 

Jongin nodded, bemused, though unsure about what. “Wait,” his spine snapped straight, a little alarmed, “you are going to be my mentor?” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol blinked at him, “is there something wrong with that?” 

“No… no, I just thought,” Jongin fumbled to explain how he thought he’d be starting lower on the rung not tossed into the deep with the only shark in the water. 

“Thought what?” 

“That you’d be… too busy… for me. You’re… you.” he fumbled. 

“I’m me,” Chanyeol’s lips stretched and a twinkle appeared in his unrelenting gaze, “and you’re you.” 

“Sir?” 

“Don’t look so lost, I’m only teasing.” he laughed under his breath, a tad apologetic. “I’m not sure you’re aware but you’re quite good at glaring. But there’s something about you… something that reminds me of a kitten underneath that exterior.” he raised a brow and leaned forward, as though examining Jongin closer. Jongin could not move, could not breathe if he wished, confusion and pulse drumming wildly in tandem. 

“But no, I train at least one of our newbies every apprenticeship cycle. Most choose to stay and the talent stays in the shop. Think of it as an investment. If they’re trained by the best, they eventually become leaders in their field. I’m, well, humbly, the best in mine.” despite the haughty words, Jongin could admit his smile was quite humble, slightly flustered, too, maybe.

“And I’ll make the best of you. Do you trust me to?” he clasped his hands on the table, gaze firm and heavy but patient on Jongin, like he knew Jongin’s answer before he knew it himself. 

Perhaps he did, there was only one possibility anyway. “Yes.”

“Good. Welcome to Soul Stain, Jongin. I look forward to working with you.”

  


✦

> **Sehun 10:07**
> 
> hey shithead, didnt drag my ass here for this bs
> 
> **Felix 10:07**
> 
> take your time jongin
> 
> how many times did he stand us up
> 
> **Dana 10:07**
> 
> oh poor lixie, he forgot sehun isn’t like us mere plebs
> 
> **Aisha 10:08**
> 
> thats right folks
> 
> hes royalty
> 
> **Sehun 10:09**
> 
> i have an important life

The group chat was inundated with indignant outbursts, chastising Sehun for his careless arrogance and Jongin grinned as he pushed the door to the Insomnia open. Indeed, he caught sight of his friends upon entrance, sequestered in a corner, occupying two sides of the leather bench along wall and the wooden chairs on the other side of the tables between them.

He was less than ten minutes late but leave it up to Sehun to make an episode of it. He greeted Jongin with a punch that packed gusto and dagger eyes as if Jongin was responsible for the mini chew out he got from their friends for his remark. 

“Hey, hey,” Aisha tugged on Sehun’s arm from his other side, sharp acrylics piercing his upper arm from the acute wince on his face. “Hands off the talent.” 

“Morning guys,” Jongin greeted, accepting one armed hugs from everyone who wasn’t Sehun. 

“Hey babe, drink up,” Dana pushed a mug of brimming cappuccino towards him, carpaled heart emblem drawn in the froth. Felix nudged a plate of cookies toward him and he grinned at them in gratitude before he dug in. 

“So,” Aisha breathed as soon as he’d taken his first sip, “spill.” she shoved Sehun back against his chair so she could have an unobstructed view of Jongin. Sehun opened his mouth to protest and Aisha raised a silencing finger to his lips without sparing him a glance. Sehun’s mouth shut with a resigned click. 

“Spill what?” Jongin laughed, looking Sehun dead in the eyes to convey his smugness. 

“Jongin,” Aisha said darkly, setting a palm on the table and leaning closer. “I didn’t wake an hour earlier on a fucking Saturday morning for this kind of baloney. Texting us “hey guys im hired” in the middle of the night like some pooka is also not the way to deliver news. Tell us what happened yesterday, how it happened, who it happened with, why—“

“I think he gets it, Ash,” Dana cut her off calmly. 

“I got hired.” Jongin shrugged, breaking his cookie in two, “Across the street. In that tattoo shop. That’s all there is to it.” 

“That’s all there is to it!” Felix exclaimed. 

“Sure there is!” Aisha cried with him. 

“This rascal. This absolute eejit.” Sehun punched him again and this time Aisha had nothing to say about it. “We didn’t even know you were applying for it.” a tight scowl graced Sehun’s lips, “What possessed you? And what happened to the graphic design vacancy for that studio I told you about?” 

“They turned me down.” Jongin turned his eyes to his mug, focusing on the swirl of colour on its surface and swallowing down the small of knot guilt at the lie. He couldn’t allude to Gavin without his friends turning slightly feral. Moreover, he wasn’t here for that. It was a celebratory morning, not another chance for his past to overshadow and cripple his present. 

“Anway, Soul Stain took me on for a three year apprenticeship and we’ll see how it goes from there.” he dismissed, munching on some more cookie so he wouldn’t have to reply for awhile. 

“You’re only missing the tiny fact that it’s _Soul Stain,_ Jongin. How in the feck did you pull that off?” Felix demanded, his exasperation at Jongin’s nonchalance shining through. 

“I said hello and asked.” that, too, was a fib but he couldn’t find a sliver of guilt at his friends’ collective groans and pleas for patience. 

“My cousin’s been trying for years, went to their every branch and was consistently told to come back another time.” Dana informed them, nursing her own mug with both hands and staring at Jongin with pensive assessment that made him feel like she was tearing the flesh from his bones bit by bit to find the truth of the matter. 

“Seriously, it was a fluke. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” 

“What does that mean?” a furrow appeared between Felix’s brows, his head dipping down so he could see Jongin above the line of his glasses. 

“I told you guys,” Sehun declared triumphantly once Jongin recapped everything, “he’s got more skill than any of those Renaissance twats.” 

“Sure,” Jongin rolled his eyes but his lips curled as Sehun clapped him on the back and settled his arm around him.

It was funny how he worked for years, with passion and unwaning determination to perfect his skill, how it got him a scholarship to the best Art school in the country, how he enjoyed the approval and admiration of professors and professionals he held in the highest regard for years. And then the jar of confidence shattered over his head as he stupidly consigned it to one person who saw it fit to deliver him another jar instead, one replete with the voice of every doubt—his own and many, many others—he’d staved off. 

It was always striking to see the drawings and paintings bearing his name framed on Sehun’s walls and hallways the rare times he couldn’t escape the Oh mansion and Sehun’s spoken praise had the same effect. Any kind of praise for his work, really. 

It lit his nerves with warmth and exploded into a million tiny pinpricks of happiness in him every time his friends marveled at his work or insisted on buying pieces of artwork from him or simply reminded him of their confidence in him and his talent. Rebuilding his faith in himself and his abilities was an uphill climb but he was making the hike and he couldn’t say he was be faring too bad. 

“Give it a few years and I’m telling you, he’ll be the owner of the shop.” Felix nodded sagely. 

“What!” Jongin straightened, nearly choking on his drink. 

“Yeah, they’ll come from all over the world to get their tats done by _the_ Angel.” Aisha added solemnly. 

“Oh my god.” Jongin sank into his seat, holding his face in his hands. 

“Jongin Kim, owner of Soul Stain and tattoo artist by day, number one camb—”

“Owner of Soul Stain?” a voice interrupted. 

The table froze and Jongin wanted to die. Wanted the seat to open up and absorb him whole and send him deep into the Earth’s blazing core. 

“What’s it to you?” Sehun challenged the stranger butting into their conversation. 

Jongin willed himself to speak, to look up, to order Sehun to shut his trap _right then._ But biting his cheek, pinching Sehun’s thigh hard and wishing even harder that this wasn’t happening was a more doable course of action. 

“Only my business. What’s it to you?” the deep voice replied, sounding amused. 

“How the hell is it your business?” Sehun spat and Jongin wasn’t looking but he could tell his features were pulled into the disdainful sneer that had intimidated him when they first met. 

“Sehun,” Jongin said, quite faint. 

“Is being rude a new fad?” Sehun continued sharply. 

“Sehun,” Jongin tugged on his sleeve, his acute yearning for the world to end growing exponentially. 

“Because it looks to me, buddy, like you have _no business_ cutting in on our conversation like that. Move along and—” 

“Sehun!” Jongin gasped, existence becoming an unbearable thing. All heads at the table and some others in the room swiveled to him. He raised his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s sparkling ones and Jongin wondered if the man was ever in a mood that wasn’t mildly amused by the world around him. 

“That’s Chanyeol.” he explained with more calm than he had at his disposal. “My boss.” 

“Your boss?” he heard Sehun’s frown, “Like what? Your _new_ boss?” 

Jongin nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off Chanyeol. He was dressed in a short sleeved henley that mapped the rugged terrain of his torso unfairly well, despite the biting chill outside. His thick arms were on well display and Jongin found his gaze langouring over the breathtaking ink that left little clear skin to be seen. A shiny weighty looking watch glinted at his wrist, more metal adorned on his inked fingers as well and Jongin wanted to have a closer look so he could discern the letting between his fingers and running vertically down the back of his palm. 

When he met Chanyeol’s eyes again, the man was one tug of his lips short of a smirk and his expression was insufferably knowing. It put an automatic scowl on Jongin’s face, in spite of his burning embarrassment. 

“Yep, that’s the one.” Chanyeol voiced. “I was getting these and saw you, thought I might say hello.” he pointed his chin at the tray of coffee in his clutch. “You alright, Jongin?” 

“Yeah, fine.” he breathed, thinner than he would’ve liked. 

“Want a drink?” 

“M’covered.” he nodded to the mug before him. 

“All right. You guys have a lovely morning. See you on the other side, Jongin.” he had the audacity to wink the minute before he turned away.

“Dude,” his friends were on him the instant Chanyeol was out of earshot. 

“Holy fuck,” 

“What the fuck just happened?” 

“I’d like to know, too.” Jongin sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into Sehun’s shoulder. 

“You never told us,” Aisha leaned over to dig an accusing nail into Jongin’s chest, “that your boss,” punctuated by a jab, “is just the hottest,” another jab, “guy. on. earth.” 

“Ssh,” he gripped her wrist and glared, craning his neck to see if Chanyeol had left the building, “not so loud.” 

“Oh what?” Felix said, louder than necessary, “We’re not allowed to say your boss is super attractive?” 

“Yeah,” Dana agreed, a wicked glint in her eyes that made Jongin groan, _not you, not you,_ “or that he was totally giving you A Look?” 

“Okay,” Jongin said calmly even though the embarrassment was about to swallow him whole, “okay, okay,” he stood up, picking up his phone and the coat he shrugged off, “I’m leaving.” 

“No you’re not.” Sehun forced him back down, to his despair. “You’re not walking out of here until you explain to us why you never thought your hot jerky of a boss was noteworthy.” 

“Hot jerky.” Aisha wrinkled her nose. 

“I thought you were straight.” Felix’s own face was wrinkled with confusion. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Sehun gasped, putting a plaintive hand on his chest, “I didn’t know straight and blind were the same thing.” 

“Jerky isn’t really thick. Did you see that ass? More like mutton chops.” Dana mused absently. 

Jongin groaned. He was done. “Meat comparisons of my boss was what I needed this morning. Or any morning.” he stood up again, “Thanks a million guys, really, thank you so much.” 

“This conversation isn’t over.” Aisha said sweetly squeezing his hand as she allowed him to pass to the outside of the table. “We’re going out with Jordy tomorrow, don’t forget.” 

“I have work.” he grumbled, waving over his shoulder. 

“Conversation not over!” 

Yeah, and he was doomed in so many ways. 

✦

Orlagh was at the desk when Jongin made his way across the street. Some of the shutters were yet to be lifted outside and lamps at the workstations were off. Orlagh smiled good morning and told him he was expected upstairs in Chanyeol’s office. He made his way at a sloth’s pace, hoping by some force of miracle Chanyeol would not bring up anything that transpired in the past half hour. 

He met Dermott by Chanyeol’s open door, exiting as he entered and was given a nod in passing. 

“Ah, Jongin!” Chanyeol clapped his hands, brightening up at the sight of him. He put down the papers he was holding, thick glasses perched on his nose and Jongin was miserable that the man could get any more attractive.

“Morning,” he beckoned him closer and Jongin cautiously went to him. “One of your duties here will be setting up the workstations for the other artists every morning. It’s still early and we don’t open till twelve on weekends but one of our artists had something come up and needs to shift their appointment earlier. Orlagh will show you what needs to be done. Any questions?” 

“Ehm,” he started apprehensively, “when do I start learning to ink?” 

Chanyeol stayed blank for a moment before shaking his head, laughing under his breath. “In time, Jongin.” 

What did that mean? 

“You’ll be a pro in no time, don’t worry.” Chanyeol’s expression minted into a reassuring smile, “Hell, you might even own the place one day.” 

“Oh god,” Jongin whispered, the bottomless pit of embarrassment gaping in his gut again, “god.” 

“I’m not quite sure what they meant though, Jongin. How do you plan on acquiring my shop?” he went on, disregarding the mortification that was vivid on Jongin. 

“An acquisition? Will you buy me out, Jongin?” he rounded the desk, coming to stand before Jongin, forcing him to tilt his head to look at him, determined not to shy away even if he once again wanted to be swallowed into the molten core of the earth. 

“Or,” Chanyeol said, stepping even closer and making Jongin’s heartbeat skitter, “will you become Mr. Park to own it with me? Is that what they meant?” he raised a perfectly solemn brow and their proximity punched Jongin in the chest, his mind blanking for an endless few seconds. He said something that Jongin’s zoned out mind couldn’t bother to process, momentarily captivated by the movement of Chanyeol’s lips and wondering what it would feel like to be caught in those powerful arms and kissed slowly. 

_No._

“Jongin?” Chanyeol’s face was of concern now, hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly out of his daze. 

“I don’t know,” he cleared his throat, “maybe they meant like… a franchise. Licensing.” nonchalant, he took a discreet step back so he could breathe. “Anyway don’t mind them. I can’t even tattoo yet, I haven’t really thought that far.” 

“Something tells me you’ll be very capable, Jongin.” there was no playfulness, just sincerity and it caught Jongin off guard. “Get started downstairs, I’ll see you in the afternoon.” he walked back to his chair after a soft, genuine smile and left Jongin to stand stunned for a moment before he turned on his heel and made his way back down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can chanyeol take it easy so jongin doesnt die before he even holds his first tattoo machine? /whispers no. 
> 
> hope you liked that, as always your thoughts are really appreciated and motivating ♡
> 
> the next update should be tuesday-ish since i have most of part 2 written. til then, take care!~ 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) || [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *barely edited

The days passed in a blur of learning and assisting the other tattoo artists at the shop; Gianni, Luke, Aoife, and Nikolai. He helped them set up shop in the morning, helped them close in the evenings and tended to their coffee or lunch needs in between clients. He arrived earlier than everyone save for Orlagh who logged information and took care of appointments and finance. His lessons with Chanyeol began an hour before the shop officially closed and ran sometimes two hours after and he was the last to leave.

Chanyeol had him sit in on the other artists’ sessions as well his own. He instructed Jongin to observe, the act, the planning and precision that went into it. He had Jongin familiarize himself with all the tools and instruments they used, sometimes the activity manifesting in the shape of stocking the storage when orders came in and at other times quizzing him in passing or in their after hours lessons. 

He made sure Jongin could dismantle and reassemble the various types of tattoo machines they used, stating that any artist worth their dime should know the inner workings of their tools and that it would help him understand tattooing better. He taught Jongin the mechanics of the needles, their function on the skin and how they punched ink into the dermis. He taught him about different inks, expounded on the brief sterilization and sanitation directions Orlagh had given him that first day to help him set up stations and how to work the autoclave. 

At odds with his general nervousness about starting a new profession in a brand new environment—where his coworkers were fond of bluntness—it hadn’t occurred to Jongin to be scared of Chanyeol and his mentorship. He hadn’t counted on Chanyeol being an autocratic, dogmatic or choleric instructor though with the limited experience he had with other tattoo artists, he should have. The fear filtered in when he witnessed Chanyeol rebuking Dermott for bleeding a client. His voice was not raised and his face was no more austere than it was when he was unsmiling yet Jongin felt his disappointment viscerally, as if it were meant for him. 

But that was the first and few of the cases where Jongin found Chanyeol not to be in good cheer, jovial with his employees and even more so with his clients. Jongin had met him a mirthful man who taunted a little more than what Jongin’s poor nerves were equipped to handle. And a mirthful teacher who teased a little much was what he stayed towards Jongin. He was more solemn, yes, and had patently high expectations of Jongin to grasp whatever he was teaching as soon as possible. But he explained and demonstrated at length when Jongin couldn’t master something and was quick to be gentle when Jongin’s frustrations made him berate himself. 

They moved on from equipment in a few weeks and descended on the vast and extensive area of styles. Jongin hadn’t been as ill-equipped in that regard, as he had been reading about each style for months in preparation for his portfolio and Chanyeol had regarded him with approval that made him thrum pleasantly. It was slow going and made Jongin itch with the curiosity of when he would finally get to hold a tattoo machine with ink and put down a design but it would have been a feat to be unscathed by the fire of Chanyeol’s passion as he delved into the specifics and distinctions of each style, their history and neat tricks for getting their best designs. 

He tested Jongin’s drawing speed, demanding bigger and more nuanced designs in increasingly shorter time frames _. You won’t start out with customs and appointments, Jongin. You must be prepared for walkins and that requires the shortest amount of design prep with the highest skill you can muster in that time._ And so Jongin went home with aching wrists for weeks because Chanyeol had him draw and redraw and then some because he just wasn’t accomplishing it fast or well enough. 

_“Tattooing isn’t just an aesthetic thing, Jongin. It can be. But not for us. Not for artists and not for a lot of our human canvases. It’s a test of patience, perseverance, fortitude and devotion to your craft. It might sound daft to you right now but it’s spiritual too. You’ll see. Harness all these skills and you unlock parts of yourself that allow you to embrace the world around you differently. It’s a way of life like any other. Now, I know it’s frustrating but I want you to start again. You’re doing good but I believe you can do better._

It quickly became evident why Soul Stain was considered the leading shop in the country and how much respect and love Chanyeol had for his craft, how he conducted his business and skills ardently. It sucked Jongin in like a vacuum and what initiated as a distant and reluctant sense of attraction matured into budding respect and proceeded to flourishing admiration and a thirst to master the craft like Chanyeol, absorb every morsel of knowledge he was willing to impart and hopefully be near his level one day. 

Three months in and at last Chanyeol let Jongin pick up a machine and start taking his designs to practice skins. Chanyeol informed him that he was still a great deal from inking a human canvas, a year and a half at the least if he continued at this sterling speed of advancement. But Jongin saw why Chanyeol didn’t let him off the deep end as soon as they started because god damn, it was _tricky._

It frustrated Jongin to the point that he starting being early for being early, arriving before Orlagh and staying an hour longer than their evening lessons required, even when Chanyeol already allowed him to use the after hours to focus on practising on skins with the machine. Since Chanyeol lived on the floor above the shop, he generously let him stay as long as he needed, only telling him to notify him by text when he’d gone so he could properly lock up. 

However, the jarring reality of how arduous it was and would be still did not take away from the sheer enjoyment of the entire process. Nothing had stoked his spirits like this in a considerable while and if Jongin weren’t trying to wholeheartedly live in the present—which was turning out greater than he expected—he would have spent some time regretting the hours he spent in apprehension and uncertainty of pursuing this avenue. 

It was strange. Consuming. _Exciting._ Like anyone else, Jongin had many regrets; decisions he would retake given the chance, reels of himself he’d cut out or replace. Life most times thrust things onto you or forced weights on you in the crux of a vast open ocean. And you had to float, _fight_ to get to the surface, because the only other option was sinking. Sometimes floating came to be in unsavoury or scourging ways. But for the first time, Jongin felt like he was adrift, airy and strong, and born of his own violation, too, not just mere survival. 

✦

It was a particularly tiring day and the evening ended in exhausted goodbyes and enthusiastic fleeing from the shop by the other artists. Jongin quietly set up his workstation upstairs—which was Chanyeol’s—and looked at the clock so he could time his stencil prep. Slow heavy steps made their way up on the wooden stairs and Jongin glanced at Chanyeol as he appeared. 

Chanyeol stopped when he reached the top and stood there for a few seconds, eyes closed and staring at the ceiling. Then he passed a hand over his face, rubbing his jaw and circling his shoulders. He made his way to Jongin and collapsed in his chair. Reaching behind his head, he loosened the tie holding his hair together, shook the long strands out and let out a sigh that came from every bone.

There were shadows and lines prominent under his eyes and a few loose stray strands falling over his forehead. The amused light that wore his face throughout the day was gone and the exhaustion softened him around the edges, making him seem pliable and unguarded. 

Jongin rarely saw him like this outside of their after hours lessons and it made something illogical and primal swell in his gut, a sort of satisfaction and gruntle that he was privy to this private side of his boss. It placed an urge in him to stride over to him and hold his head to his chest, comb his fingers through his silken hair.

He pushed the urge down, no longer even possessing the ability to be surprised by himself at the whims and desires Chanyeol frustratingly opened up in him, only thoroughly irritated. “Tough day?” he asked, taking out a pair of gloves from the box. 

“Tough. Doesn’t. Even. Begin’t. Cover it.” Chanyeol enunciated, shaking out his hair again. “I need a drink.” he announced, standing up, “Want one?” 

“Sorry,” Jongin winced, “I don’t really drink.” 

“Huh,” Chanyeol blinked, looking surprised, “What’ll you have then? A soda?” 

“Ehm… juice? Or water?” he winced again, loathing to be picky but he really needed to watch his diet, since his workouts were cut significantly by his new job. “”What?” he said shiftly when Chanyeol stared at him for another beat. 

“Nothing,” Chanyeol laughed softly, the amused light coming on, “you’re just surprising. Don’t meet anyone who doesn’t take anything less than whiskey neat around here.” he smiled and shook his head again before turning to his office. 

He returned with two beer bottles, a tall glass and a carton of various juices. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” he said sheepishly as Jongin eyed the cartons. 

“So you brought the whole supermarket, how thoughtful.” Jongin said solemnly. 

“Be quiet you.” Chanyeol pointed the glass at him like a truncheon but he was grinning and soon Jongin was too. 

“What happened?” Jongin asked after being passed his cool glass of OJ and thanking Chanyeol. He removed his gloves and leaned against the workbench, fixing his gaze on Chanyeol who slumped back into the chair with his bottle. 

“My client happened,” he groaned, face contorted at the immediate memory. “You know what’s my biggest pet peeve? And most artists if we’re being truthful? Being micromanaged.” he paused to take a long swig, licking his lips afterwards and making Jongin’s brain briefly glitch as he zoned in on the softness of them, pink and plump.

“I was doing this guy’s neck for a five hour session and we had the design and everything set out, he came in two appointments prior to settle all that. But today he suddenly decides, ah no I don’t like how this bends and I don’t like this bit here in the middle and why is the wing looking like that?

“And that wasn’t the worst part. Being micromanaged is dreadful but at the end of the day it’s their body and it’s the usual, you know? But the icing, this guy, for some reason, couldn’t stop sneezing in my face? Big mighty ‘achoo!’ right. In. My face. Asked if he had some allergy or had the flu but he kept saying he was fine and that he wanted to go on with the session. Took me saying I’d stop to get him to wear a mask, too.

“But he kept jostling my machine, like doing the neck wasn’t hard enough and a painful enough place to begin with.” he shook his head in lamentation, fiery annoyance in his eyes. 

“That sounds,” Jongin breathed, trying to control the laughter in his voice, “uncomfortable.” 

“Amused are ya?” 

“No sir, never.” Jongin denied, even as his face threatened to break out in a grin. It wasn’t every day that he saw Chanyeol get pouty and whiny about things, ever on the move and disregarding mild frustrations that elicited a grumble from the rest. 

“Laugh all you want now but spare me the tears when you get your first foot that came straight from the gym and never saw a clipper in its life.” 

Jongin cringed, the orange juice soured in his mouth. It wasn’t a visual he needed, then or ever and Chanyeol sat blatantly smug at unsettling him. 

“Is it too late to quit?” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol gave his rumbling laugh. “The industry would be robbed of a diamond in the rough and I won’t let that happen.” 

“Sir?” he choked.

“Your drawing skills,” he stood up and came towards the workbench, “they already translate damn well from stencil to fake skin.” he bent to retrieve some of Jongin’s practice skins from the previous day and twisted the head of the lamp to shine between them as he pointed, “These lines are cleaner than I ever managed when I was at your level. If you can further improve and translate this clean precision on human canvases too, you’ll go far and stand out very quickly. I know shop owners who still put shaky lines on people like they did them at an epicentre.” 

“Oh,” Jongin swallowed, his toes curling in his shoes as he fought his shoulders from doing the same, “I’ll try my best.” it was a promise. 

“I know you will.” 

“Do I really have to do feet?” 

“You don’t _have_ to do anything you don’t want to, Jongin. It’s your right to turn down anything you’re uncomfortable with. What people don’t take into account is the intimacy of this job.” Chanyeol shrugged, leaned back against the workbench like Jongin, “If you’re not about poking around someone’s penis or between their buttcrack, that’s perfectly fine. Oh trust me—” Chanyeol said with understanding when Jongin’s eyes widened, “—they exist and far more common than you’d think, despite the insane pain, sensitivity and all.” 

“Have you… you’ve…” 

“Have I what?” he sounded clueless but his face was anything but. 

“Nevermind.” Jongin swiftly manoeuvred, unsure how his nerves would cope if Chanyeol kept looking at him like that as they talked about intimate parts and unwilling to risk it, “What’s the most painful place to tattoo?” 

“That,” Chanyeol brightened up, allowing the change in topic. He straightened, full height looming over Jongin and took the glass from him to set it behind them. As Jongin stood on in confusion, Chanyeol picked up his wrist and pried his fingers back to straighten out his hand. “That would be your palm.” he cupped Jongin’s hand, his smaller palm sitting in Chanyeol’s almost half the size as Chanyeol brought a finger to the centre of it. He trailed it down to the apex of his wrist and then back up to the tip of his middle finger. 

The sensation hitched Jongin’s breath and sent a flurry of shivers up his spine. Chanyeol continued, using the pad to glide faintly up and down his fingers, so faint it felt like wind kissing his skin and Jongin let out a soft sigh, surprising himself. 

“See?” Chanyeol’s voice was a soft murmur, prompting Jongin out of the web his caress had pinned him to. His face was much closer than Jongin had remembered and his eyes, large and almost entirely black, pried into his own. “Extremely sensitive.” he switched to three fingers, running them feather light over Jongin’s palm, gaze captive to his. 

“But that’s not the only reason why it hurts most. Our hands and feet have thicker skin than anywhere else in our body.” he explained, voice low and mellow like he were letting Jongin in on a secret. “That thickness is caused by keratin which leaves a surface of dead skin on your epidermis. When you’re tattooing, the needle has to penetrate deeper and it’s harder to get the ink to stick.” he gently removed his palm from under Jongin and set it atop, presenting the faded broken lines of a once there tattoo on his own palm. 

Jongin brought a finger to it, glancing up at Chanyeol gave him a nod. He traced the washed out lines, faint as Chanyeol had done to him. He didn’t let out a sigh and neither did his breath hitch but when Jongin lifted his head to pose a question, Chanyeol was fixated on their hands and then his focus dragged to Jongin’s mouth which made the question die in Jongin’s throat. 

“What-” Jongin faltered, clearing his throat when Chanyeol finally looked him in the eye. Something mercurial and flammable wavered there. Jongin wished his heart would slow down, any louder and its drumming would fill the wide silent room. “What was the tattoo?” 

“My cat.” 

“Your cat?” Jongin blinked, taken aback. 

“Mm, my cat, Lilo.” Chanyeol affirmed, chuckling. “Actually I’d done it myself, the first time round. I was a scratcher then, barely fifteen and determined to prove my age didn’t mean I couldn’t handle a machine.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes and Jongin smiled with him. “It turned out badly of course, got infected and turned ugly as sin.” 

Jongin caressed the palm again, much wider than his, own fingers long and thick. It was a rough palm but though calloused it was completely healed and there wasn’t anything to indicate infection marring. He subconsciously dragged his fingers to the tips of Chanyeol’s, appreciating their width, before sinking down between the sides, curiously following the arrows inscribed there. 

“But when I got older and began work in my second shop, one of the senior artists took pity on me and decided to treat it as a coverup job. Pain almost made me tap out, fifteen year old me didn’t do half as much correctly and so I didn’t know it would bite like that. Thought I could take it. I did, I could but it was a near thing. Had it retouched three or four times since before I decided not to anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“Got a more permanent one after she passed.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’alright. Got Toben now, my dog. Got him inked too.” he smiled and the rueful cloud that had settled over him dispersed. 

Jongin perked up at that. Most of the buildings he lived didn’t allow pets and the only one he got to see semi frequently anymore was Vivi, Sehun’s poodle. He had his own poodles, once. Three hyperactive pups that were a full workout the minute he was in their presence but nosed at him when he was upset and licked him to laughter and tears. He wondered about them often, wondered if they still lived. It had been so long.

“Can I see?” he asked eagerly.

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol turned pensive. He gripped Jongin’s wrist again, wrapping around the entirety of it with ease, and ran a thumb over Jongin’s fingers still exploring the tattoos between them before gently pulling away. “I have them somewhere awfully private.”

Jongin stared with furrowed brows.

“I couldn’t sit right for some time when I got them.” Chanyeol bemoaned. 

_Oh._ Jongin blanched and covered his mouth, startled. 

Chanyeol let out a choked laugh, stepping away to grab his bottle. 

“You tattooed your pets… _there?”_ Jongin demanded, mildly disturbed as Chanyeol drank, unruffled. 

“No.” Chanyeol continued to laugh at him, “God you’re cute.” 

Jongin scowled and turned away. His boss was an _utter_ fiend. 

“They’re actually on my chest.” Chanyeol clarified, his amusement at Jongin’s expense dying down, “I’ll strip for you another time.” 

_“What?”_ Jongin whirled around, alarmed. “Who said I want that?”

“You don’t?” he raised a calm brow, taking another swig. 

_No!_ Jongin was about to exclaim, feeling caught out. Daydreaming about your handsome boss was one thing. Admitting it to his face, well, Jongin had no plans of that, ever. It was embarrassing enough to have Chanyeol’s face pop up in his mind from time to time as he streamed or played alone, he didn’t have to blacken his repute with Chanyeol. 

But Chanyeol’s casual deamour pressed a pause in him. He was too still, too laid back and it looked tense when Jongin really _looked._ The sense that his answer would matter beyond the light hearted banter crept into his bones and caution wrapped around him, though cautious about what he wasn’t sure. 

“I—”

“Heavens, you look terrified.” Chanyeol displayed his own concern, straightening as if he would get up and come to Jongin any moment. “Just teasing, alright?” 

“Alright.” Jongin found his voice in a whisper. 

Chanyeol stayed silent a moment before saying, “In any case, I’m sure you know we post our finished pieces on our social media pages. But I got those long before we set up those pages so you’ll have to see them on our website gallery if you really want. Baekhyun insisted on showing off his Toben and Lilo and you know how he is.” Chanyeol huffed. 

Jongin smiled and nodded, thinking of the energetic man that lit up the whole shop when he arrived. He was Chanyeol’s best friend and ran one of the other Soul Stain branches. He was reputable and formidable in his designs, Jongin was left in stupid awe when he’d seen the man’s portfolio. 

He had also quickly discovered he didn’t enjoy the company of many of the other artists. He was awaiting the day he’d get used to it but it was all either too crude for him or unfoundedly obnoxious about everything which soured the respect he had for their skills but Baekhyun was nothing but amiable and radiant and occasionally terrifying. 

Jongin made a mental note to try and find the image Chanyeol was talking about, only slightly guilty about his renegade fingers that constantly took him back to the Instagram posts of Chanyeol flexing to show off a sleeve piece on his corded biceps or rippling back. 

“Have you got any pets then?” 

“I did.” 

“They pass?” 

“No, they’re with my family, I think.” 

“You think?” 

The truth slipped out before he could think up a bullshit explanation. “We don’t speak. Anymore.” 

He frowned and made a task of retrieving his glass again. He could hear the roll of cars outside as the silence fell again and the distant sound of conversation as people passed by on the street. There was a small rock in his throat, the same one that turned his eyes misty every time he so much as thought about this topic. No matter what, there were some wounds that gauzed over, never fully closed and the most artificial of pricks could perforate and send them gaping open again. 

But the surprise lay in the fact that he wasn’t so reluctant to talk about it with Chanyeol as he was to talk about it full stop. Hashing at those wounds without a bed to bury himself under after letting the tears run their course on his cheeks and drift off to endless sleep, or arms to curl into, was the least enticing thing right then. 

“I see.” Chanyeol said after waiting for Jongin to face him again. “Tricky thing isn’t it? Family.” 

Jongin nodded his assent, afraid his voice might crack if he spoke. 

“Well you’re here now.” the understanding mournful thing in Chanyeol’s eyes deliquesced into mellow solace, as if this fact was something to take assurance in. Somehow it was. It hurt a little to note that, hurt sweet like squeezing a nearly healed bruise. 

“I am.” Jongin agreed, giving a small smile. The moment stretched. Chanyeol’s smile was gilded with embryonic depth that sent a lick of warmth through Jongin, heat of a hearth, ease of a netted fall. 

“Fancy seeing Toben?” Chanyeol asked eventually. 

Jongin stiffened. “But you already said—” 

“I meant pictures of him, Jongin. On my phone.” he injected, humoured.

“Oh.” Jongin let the flustered breath loose, “Oh, yes.” 

Jongin made his way to him, standing tentatively behind the chair so he could peer over Chanyeol’s shoulder but Chanyeol gave a dissatisfied grunt and reached for him. 

“C’mere.” he pulled Jongin around to the arm of the chair, seating him there. Jongin had no choice but to lean into Chanyeol lest he fell sideways to the floor but the view was certainly better. “I told you I don’t bite.” 

“It’s late.” Jongin commented, shocked at the 6:23 he read on the screen. How had almost an hour managed to pass? He didn’t get a single design done that evening. 

“Mm. You’ll take the evening off today.” Chanyeol said absently, tapping on his phone.

“Sir?” 

“You’ve been working hard. You earned it.” Chanyeol finally glanced up at Jongin’s high pitched question. 

“Are you sure?”

“You can practice on the skins instead of setting up shop tomorrow. I’ll inform the rest.” 

Jongin’s mouth opened and closed, nascent protests on his tongue. He thought better of it, Chanyeol looking unyielding in his decision anyway. “Thank you.” he accepted and bit his cheek so he wouldn’t smile. Why was Chanyeol so nice? He was around long enough to get a small feel for the climate of the local industry and almost no one had come across half as benign or kind as Chanyeol, certainly not if he were going by his first impressions when he was applying for apprenticeship. 

It was dangerous, though, and Jongin chastised himself mentally. What he was not going to do was develop puppy crushes on the few people outside of his friends that showed him anything other than a stoic face. He was not going to be the idiot scorned twice. 

“Here he is.” Chanyeol opened a folder in his gallery, a sea of black fluff appearing. He touched one of the thumbnails and it enlarged to an image of a fluffy black poodle with bright beady eyes posing for the camera in a short sailor patterned shirt fitted on his small body. 

“Oh my god,” Jongin gasped and snatched the phone from Chanyeol to get a closer look. “Oh my god,” he scrolled to the next one, greeted by the same poodle, a closeup of his happy smiling face. “So cute, wow,” Jongin muttered, swiping and swiping, feeling like he couldn’t get enough. Chanyeol watched, letting him have it.

There was a small pang with the joy, too. His kids were poodles too. Nostalgia never felt so mordant. He pushed it away. 

Then he came to a picture that shorted his brain and froze his heart. 

There was Toben, resting on Chanyeol’s hoodied chest, barely discernible from the black material if it weren’t for the hand Chanyeol had on him. Chanyeol’s eyes were closed, lashes and brows stark against his cream skin and pale pillow where his head was placed, hair disheveled on the pillow like a halo. 

His ears seemed even more prominent in his sleep, several metal piercings and hoops calling for attention. The long column of his neck was exposed and he clutched Toben in his sleep while the poodle sprawled over him, head pillowed on his forearm where the sleeve was pushed up and showing the intricate designs of his sleeve. 

He looked serene, he looked cosy. Most of all he looked beautiful. Beautiful and adorable and Jongin found that he couldn’t get air in his lungs right. 

“Fuck,” he couldn’t help but whisper. 

“What is it?” Chanyeol chuckled, lowering Jongin’s hand so he could glimpse which picture pried this reaction from him. 

“Just,” Jongin swallowed, words a very confusing thing, “cute.”

“He is.” Chanyeol agreed before he got a look. Jongin felt him stiffen when he did. He slowly looked back up, “Cute huh?” 

Jongin could not find it in himself to lie. “Really. Adorable.” he said, his ability to speak still quite fragmented. 

“Adorable.” Chanyeol repeated, disbelief crossing his face. Despite that, he looked pleased and beamed up at Jongin. “Said yourself.” 

Jongin almost fell off the chair, flushing right through. Luckily (was it really? Jongin’s nerves had interesting input.) Chanyeol caught him before he did, securing an arm around his waist and tugging him back against him. 

He could smell Chanyeol’s cologne, something unfamiliar and mute but it put the itch in Jongin to get a closer whiff. Involuntarily he leaned closer, leaned down. He roved over the details of Chanyeol’s face, the blemishes dusting the crescent of his cheeks, the black dot on the bridge of his nose like a lonesome star, coarse-seeming lips brushing a dark neat beard, rosy like a closed tulip, impossibly inviting. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, heavy as rolling boulders, deep as a ravine. His arm was a coil around Jongin’s waist, one he wished would wound tighter because Chanyeol barely brushed his hip, just enough to keep him from falling. He imagined Chanyeol setting his palm flat on his stomach, inching beneath the fabric and caressing him, flesh on flesh. 

Jongin’s skin rose in goose flesh, pulse tearing through his chest. Adrenaline kicked in, awful, awkward and embarrassing. _Flight, flight, flight,_ he drummed in the single syllable. 

“I should get going.” ripped himself from Chanyeol as if stung, stumbling to his feet. Chanyeol was stunned, staring at him with wide puzzled eyes but Jongin gave him a shaky smile to mask his meteoroid thoughts and mutinous reactions. “I’ll just clean up and—” 

“No,” Chanyeol said, coming back to himself, “leave it. I got it.” 

“Are you—”

“Yes Jongin.” he sounded exasperated now but he still gave Jongin his soft smile, even if the exhaustion was more apparent than it had been all evening, even if confusion still lingered on the edge of his expression. “Go home.” 

“Okay,” he headed towards the door and paused, “thanks for… for showing me Toben and… yeah.” he finished sagely, hoping Chanyeol understood. 

“Don’t mention it. I enjoyed your company.” he beamed a little again and oh god, had he always done that? Smiled this bright? Was there something wrong with Jongin? 

“It’s dark out. Text me when you’re home safe.” Chanyeol stood up, picking up the beer bottles and the glass Jongin drank in. 

Jongin’s heart skittered for the billionth time that evening. “Goodnight.” he whispered and dashed downstairs, before he could go and do something stupid like tuck himself into Chanyeol’s arms and ask him to stay that way all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this floof? do you consider this floof? i’m not very floofy, idk what the heck that means buuuut we need to introduce some heat. or bleeding hearts. or heated bleeding hearts lmao. anyway, finally we get to meet camboy ji in the next chapter! *rubs hands* IVE BEEN SO EXCITED. 
> 
> btw do you guys prefer shorter but frequent chapters (4-5k) or longer chapters taking more time (7-10k)? thanks for all your lovely comments, it keeps me going even when everything in me is yelling 'lol this sucks' ♡ 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) || [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi and welcome to camboy ji

> **Jongin 19:29**
> 
> got home okay

Jongin slid his phone back inside his pocket but the swiftness with which it vibrated almost sent it hurtling out of his grasp. 

> **Chanyeol 19:29**
> 
> proof?

Jongin bit his tongue, reading the word over several times. Was Chanyeol expecting a picture? A video? A limb delivered to his front door?

> **Jongin 19:30**
> 
> u will have to take my word i’m afraid 
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:30**
> 
> that’s not suspicious at all 
> 
> **Jongin 19:31**
> 
> imposter me wouldn’t have known to text you
> 
> and imposter me wouldn’t know about the dozen animals you have tattooed all over u
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:32**
> 
> aha
> 
> there is the fraud
> 
> who are you and what have you done with my budding artist 
> 
> **Jongin 19:33**
> 
> budding 
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:34**
> 
> would you prefer blooming? 
> 
> blooming 
> 
> like a… 
> 
> **Jongin 19:35**
> 
> ur not going to finish that
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:36**
> 
> telling me what to do now are you
> 
> go on
> 
> what other commands have you got for me
> 
> **Jongin 19:36**
> 
> i don’t want to get fired 
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:37**
> 
> that bad? 
> 
> didn’t think ya had it in you
> 
> **Jongin 19:38**
> 
> what are you trying to say sir
> 
> are you saying i’m cowardly 
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:39**
> 
> no not at all 
> 
> not right now anyway ;)

The inside of Jongin’s cheek was going to be in tatters by the end of the night. Was Chanyeol flirting with him? Was he being friendly as he normally was? Jongin needed a manual, ‘Ins and Outs: The Chanyeol Park Guide’.

**Jongin 19:40**

...right i’m heading off now 

**Chanyeol 19:40**

nice try but i’ve still no proof…

He contemplated how serious Chanyeol was. If Chanyeol was truly just joking Jongin could always fall back on his insistence. He quickly turned to his camera and snapped a picture. It didn’t look as he wanted so he tried again, another angle with the light hitting differently. He wasn’t a novice at taking selfies but none of them were turning out pleasingly and he inexplicably _needed_ it to be perfect. Only Chanyeol’s next text took him out of the frustration the pursuit of the perfect selfie—to send to his boss—boxed him in. 

> **Chanyeol 19:43**
> 
> damning silence 
> 
> **Jongin 19:43**
> 
> [photo] 
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:44**
> 
> was getting me real worried for a sec there 
> 
> you’re a cute one aren’t you

A small injured noise escaped Jongin’s throat before he could stop it. It wasn’t a compliment he had never heard before but it somehow released a fresh brand of wayward butterflies. 

> **Jongin 19:45**
> 
> thank you sir 
> 
> are you happy now?
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:45**
> 
> as a clam 
> 
> goodnight jongin 
> 
> as i said earlier, it was a pleasure talking with you today
> 
> **Jongin 19:46**
> 
> you too sir
> 
> goodnight

Jongin’s lips were stretching involuntarily as he put his phone away and a pleasant tingle thrummed through him. Belatedly he realized the entire conversation had rooted him to the spot, right at the front door of his home. _Whatever,_ he thought. _Whatever,_ talking to his boss wasn’t like texting anyone else, he needed to concentrate and not make a fool of himself. 

It was still pretty early in the evening, the earliest he’d got back since he started working at Soul Stain. A crackling restlessness lingered in him. He wasn’t worn out enough for bed and sketching would only take his mind to Soul Stain, the curious evening and texting with its owner, so that was off the menu. Coming to a decision, he took out his phone to compose a tweet, selected one of the million selfies he took previously and went to the kitchen to get a snack as he waited. 

He removed his equipment from the section of his closet he reserved for it and started setting up as he munched on some canned peaches. He placed his laptop and two cameras on his vanity and set up his tripod in front of his bed, in case he prolonged the session long enough to move things there. 

When the ten minutes were up, he turned the cameras on and started the session. 

The viewer count ticked up, going from zero the moment he started the live to three hundred to five and upwards until there were almost a thousand viewers within thirty seconds. It was still nowhere near his average number, despite it being impromptu, and he only needed to give it a few more minutes for people to tune in to his channel.

> **Guest23435:** Angel
> 
> **MikeAR:** Angel!!! Beautiful as always!!!! 
> 
> **StaceLace:** Angel doesn’t even need to take his clothes off to be sexy
> 
> **AaroD4567:** Take it all off baby boy! Daddy wants to seeee
> 
> **B_77777_2:** Angellllllll 
> 
> _Criss_xx_x has tipped you 50 tokens_
> 
> _DomForYou12 has tipped you 25 tokens_

“Hey guys,” Jongin greeted the camera with a smile. “Shall we wait for everyone to arrive?” he stabbed a peach slice in the bowl and lifted it to his mouth, a little slower and showier than he had been before he turned the camera on. His viewers loved when he ate on stream. There were times he did nothing on camera but eat—hotdogs, bananas, cheestrings—the entire session and made just as much as he would any other night that involved his usual activities. 

“How are ye? It’s been a long day for me,” he said conversationally and pulled out a tray on the miniature makeup stand on his vanity. There had not been the chance to really play with his looks in a while. What would he go for tonight? Estée Lauder, Givenchy, Nyx, his fingers over the lipstick tubs one by one. They were all an investment just as much as his camera and lights were, though a few were gifts from generous viewers who turned boastful when he sported them on stream. 

“Here, let me put on some music.” he reached for his phone then paused and cocked his head straight at the camera, “Would you like to help me choose what to put on?” the chat box moved at lightning speed with assent but he shook his head and gave a laugh, “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet. You guys are holding out tonight, huh?” he pursed his lips and scrolled through his music library, perusing for a nice track and largely ignoring the horny masses. 

The chat moved rapidly, a curtain of emojis and exclamation points moving too fast for Jongin to read properly. The token box clattered with each token and tip and the viewer count was still taking a hike as if all the world was slowly turning up for his show. 

“Mm more like it,” he grinned as the tokens in their hundreds streamed in, “oh how about this? Thinkin’ Bout You? You guys like this right?” 

> **Mrtaa3:** play it angel! 
> 
> **Joynnn:** maybe you can dance to it
> 
> **Guest34358:** show us a dance 
> 
> **Ricky$:** dance!!!

“Dance? Greedy tonight. Why don’t you let me finish this first and then we’ll see how it goes?” he said cheekily and picked up his fork. He loved the song, though, it was one of his favourites and his shoulders moved and swayed a little as he ate. 

“Anyone doing anything interesting this weekend?” he inquired, taking one of the last peaches into his mouth and gliding his tongue over his bottom lip millimetre by millimetre to lick off the syrupy juice coating it. 

> **Vnnna:** I’m doin Angel 
> 
> **ConorTip:** it’s my birthday tomorrow
> 
> **Daddylove:** love to do your tight ass this weekend angel 
> 
> **Handyman:** my plans are you angel

“I’m your plan?” Jongin laughed, “Isn’t that creepy Mr.Handyman? Unless you mean tuning in for the streams, I encourage that. Oh, and happy birthday Conor.” he blew a kiss to the screen. 

“Well I’m done with this so go on, how about we pick out my makeup? Poll going live on Twitter in two minutes. You have till then to convince me it’s a good night to take out some vibrators.” 

_DomForYou12 has tipped 1000 tokens_

There it went, the first 1000 of the night. More followed, 1000s and 500s and Jongin hummed pleasedly as he examined his cosmetics and decided which assortment to put on the poll. 

“My plans,” he said, reading a comment returning his question, “are work and only work right now, though I’m sure my friends will find something to rope me into.” he smiled sheepishly, hoping none of them were watching. He made them swear they never would and that they would never inform him if they ever did. He wasn’t ashamed, just suffering from something akin to familial embarrassment at the thought of them seeing this side of him. 

“It’s warm, should I take this off?” he fingered the hem of his shirt, calculated. “I’ll leave it on a little longer, let’s check on the poll.” he smiled innocently and retracted. 

“The Polls have spoken.” he announced, “Vin Noir it is.” excited, he rubbed his hands together. He laid out his primers and brushes and palettes but then a thought struck him and his excitement grew twofold. 

“I think… you guys are really going to like this. Time to get this show on the road, you know what to do.” he sent them a wicked wink and got to work as the token box chimed endlessly, a sound effect beneath the slow randy R&B track his playlist shifted to. 

He stocked lube in many places in his house, especially his room. One could never underestimate the amount of lube they’d need if one took dragon dildos often enough. He took out the dwindling cherry bottle he kept in one of the drawers on the leg of his vanity and got to his knees on the chair, giving his back to the camera. 

He grabbed the top of his denim skinny jeans and tugged up, the drag of the fabric lifting his cheeks and outlining his briefs. His hips circled lazily, once, ass jutted out. His arms went behind him to cup himself and squeeze, camera ignored. He lowered a hand to the back of his thighs and slid between. A soft grunt left his lips when he cupped his bulge, not having anticipated being worked up so soon. He let his eyes flutter closed with his head turned in plain sight of the camera and rubbed himself lightly, caressing his tightening balls over the fabric, neck arched, body bowing. 

When he neared being fully hard from just playing with his clothed balls, he twisted his hips to give the camera a view of his front as he popped the button and undid the zipper. Turning back, he shimmied his hips a fraction as he lowered his jeans and briefs together slowly. Normally it took time and more teasing and wandering off to scenarios in his head to get himself up but his blood was singing with zest today, his dick twitching in its confines. He stopped when his asscheeks popped out, pushed together and elevated by the movement. Both hands went to grope himself, kneading, squeezing tightly, harsher and no doubt leaving imprints on the smooth impressionable skin. 

“Oh,” he gasped softly, giving himself a smack and looking directly into the camera. “Oh,” he arched his neck further, slapping the other cheek. “Mmh,” his ass jiggled and his cock twitched with each resounding smack. “Oh, so good.” he indulged a bit, feeling himself start to leak precum. His hand didn’t carry the same painful sting a riding crop or paddle did, only the pleasurable vibrations that went straight to his cock. 

A glance into the mirror behind him showed his hanging ass marked with his finger prints. He gave his hips another wiggle as he jutted them out, presenting the results to the camera and from his peripheral he could see the chat moving like a flood. The token box had not silenced for a single second. 

He lowered his jeans and underwear beyond his knees, all the way to his calves and took his cheeks in his hands again, parting them. 

“You wanted to see, didn’t you? You’ve waited long to get a look, haven’t you? Take a look, take a good look at my greedy ass.” he put himself on perfect display, feeling the air on his puckered rim, his balls tight and heavy and visible between his legs. 

He reached for the lube and poured a philanthropic amount into his palm. The bottle dropped to the floor and he spread the fluid all over his hand, slicking his palms and fingers one by one until his hand was glistening. He held himself open again and used his middle finger to circle his entrance, smearing cool lube over it and sending a shiver through himself. He kept teasing himself, rubbing two fingers, going back to one, using two, without breaching and he was so hard, something deep in his gut throbbing, and he thought he might come from that alone. 

Finally, he sank a finger in. Cursed and added another. The slide was easy and he started working himself. Unfortunately, there wasn’t need to work himself long enough to find his prostate, his goal was to open himself up enough for the toy. Biting his lip, he scissored his fingers, looking back in the mirror to watch the small stretch of himself, the hungry gaping as he relaxed and protruded his rear. 

“That’ll do, won’t it?” he addressed the camera, coming back from the solitary world he’d slipped away to. 

He bent down for the last drawer of his vanity where he stored a few go-to toys and took out his Lovense token-based bullet vibrator. With a smirk at the camera, he curled his hand around the vibrator and coated it in the excess lube. He turned it on and held himself open once more as he pushed it in slowly. It slid in without much friction, swallowed up inside him as soon as he pushed in the bottom. It barely felt like it was there but Jongin knew that would change as soon as he sat down and even more so the minute he toggled its control on the screen. 

“Now,” he stood up and pulled up his trousers and underwear, “how far are we going to get before you make me come? Base? Contour? Eyeshadow? Setting spray?” he chuckled at the last one, “Me versus all of you? Do your worst, cherubs.” he stuck out his tongue, daring and silly. “Okay, here we go.” he toggled the switch on screen and immediately the buzzing began. 

“Shit,” he took a steadying breath and composed himself. He sent an easy unaffected smile towards the camera and found his hand sanitizer. Sitting down, he made jazz hands to let the sanitizer dry off—and groaned discreetly at the vibrator going deeper—before getting some clips to hold his hair back from his face. Satisfied that no strands would get in his way, he picked up his primer. Hardly had he covered half of his face when the intensity increased and he had to pause to adjust to the buzzing reverberating inside him, faintly tickling his prostate. 

“You guys want to see me finished and pretty right?” he squeezed a small dollop of CC cream on the side of his clenched fist and picked out an application brush. “You don’t want me finishing the stream with half a face done? You want sexy, not circus, right?” he laughed and immediately choked as the intensity notched up again. 

“Umff, mean,” he grunted, pausing until his hand was steady. “But you’ll have to do better.” he simpered and turned back to his reflection. “Shall I take some pictures after for Instagram? You guys want to see my face pretty and me naked and stained with my own cum? Yeah?” he spoke around his careful application and glanced at the screen. 

> **Ladylor:** YOU’RE KILLING US ANGEL!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Wren4U:** ur so dirty angel 
> 
> **BiggCx:** how are we supposed to pick!!!!!
> 
> **Vvvvv:** wtf
> 
> **Monicyy_:** pants off pls

“Pants come off if you can make me come,” Jongin shrugged, “I’m losing faith in you guys tonight. Thought you’d have me bent over this table and unable to move already,” he tutted and went back to applying. 

The intensity jumped two levels in the next ten seconds as the tips multiplied in defiance and Jongin only slightly regretted taunting them. 

“There’s that spark,” he grinned. He couldn’t maintain it for long though, the vibrator was caressing his prostate, stimulating him steadily to a pleasurable peak and Jongin was simultaneously looking forward to it and determined to stave it off until he was satisfied with his face. 

His hips rolled on their own accord, shifting and wiggling to meet the vibrator, looking for thrust, looking for more and more pressure. His cock felt so sweetly confined, he was probably going to come from that before the vibrator got to him. He reached for his jeans button, undid it and lowered the seams hugging his hips just enough to relieve his fully mast dick. It had turned dark from the abuse of confinement and arousal and Jongin hissed quietly at the alleviation. 

He took himself to give a few strokes, pelvis canting reflexively, “You guys like that? Ahhh, needed this all day,” he sighed in content, bending forward a degree to shift the vibrator higher and feel the brunt of the dual pleasure. He ached for something bigger, something longer, something harder to be stuffed inside him. He thought of rough hands gripping his hips and pushing him face first into the table and having his way with him. Fuck, it’d been some time since he had another person’s hands on him, warm flesh moving and sliding with him, against him. 

It wasn’t like he was putting no effort in meeting people or moving on. Every time he went out with his friends, they played wingmates and secured at least one interested party to leave the night with. But even under the umbrella of alcohol and attraction, he couldn’t shake the terror that suddenly seized him and he always ended up making out with them as apology and disappearing before they could ask for his number or _how about another time?_

Perhaps that’s why his mind deemed it safe to supply him with illicit images of his boss in this compromising position. _Chanyeol._ He thought of Chanyeol sitting in his apartment, texting Jongin, teasing him, flirting with him, an extension of their time together earlier. The image of Chanyeol in his mind warped, to a snapshot of two people on Chanyeol’s couch, to a frame of Jongin settled on Chanyeol’s lap, on his cock, and Chanyeol’s large, calloused hand gripping his nape and the other anchoring his waist. 

He didn’t want a stranger’s hands manhandling him but Chanyeol bending him to his will and pounding him six ways to sunday. Because Chanyeol was big and he _could_ manhandle Jongin but most of all, he was safe in every way that counted. He was Jongin’s boss and nothing would happen between them. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was twisted beyond remission and violating an unspoken rule of relationships but Chanyeol would never know that Jongin fantasized about him and what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him or their professional relationship either. 

Still, Jongin was not _happy_ about the star of his fantasies. Only tolerant now, since he’d been at this fight for months and it wasn’t taking. As long as he didn’t act on it, right? It wasn’t his fault that his friends were right and Chanyeol was possibly, without a hint of exaggeration, the most gorgeous man on the planet and made everything worse by being intelligent and capable and caring towards Jongin and even flirting with him. Really, it was all Chanyeol’s fault when examined accordingly.

He didn’t let the fantasy draw on too long, knowing he would get carried away and spill all over the Fenty palette and brushes sitting on the edge of his vanity. He sanitized his hands again and opened the palette, tucking away thoughts of Chanyeol and his enveloping figure bending over him a coffee table. 

“Shall we go Saffron? Or Shisha Smoke? Oh, how about this one?” he pointed to each colour with the small eyeshadow brush. “I think Saffron compliments Vin Noir best.” 

He endured through the application of eyeshadow and eyeliner, though the latter was a sheer test of will and steady hands. He maintained mindless one way conversation too, alternating between talking into the mirror and pausing to make contact with the camera and give them dark, veiled smiles.

By the end of it he was holding the setting spray bottle over his face, though he would soon wash it all off anyway, marginally disappointed. However stronger the vibrations grew, they simply were not enough to tip him over and Jongin was growing unbearably hungry for that peak that wasn't coming.

He tutted at the camera and stood as straight as he could in a _ta-da_ fashion. "At this rate we'll never get that IG picture." he murmured, shoulders slumping. "Hm," he pursued his lips and made a show of being contemplative. "Maybe I can help you guys out, just this once." he gathered his laptop and phone and made his way to the bed where a plethora of teddies and soft stuffed toys sat in crowds against his two large and fluffy pillows. He dived into them and pulled the largest one to him, a faded teddy bear with arms frayed at the shoulder joints and crooked red bow tie where the thread was coming loose. He'd had Honey Pooh since he was a child and it was now a staple of his slower, more relaxed shows.

Pushing a few teddies off each side, he set a pillow in the middle of the bed. He straddled it sideways, making sure the camera had full view of him before pulling down his pants again, up to the top of his thighs and braced each side of the pillow.

"So," he said, beginning to grind his hips slowly, "is this motivation enough for you guys?" locks of his hair fell into his face as he ground down, staring into the tusk coloured pillow as if it were a real person, giving it all the hazy look pleasured look he'd have.

The token box echoed louder in reply and Jongin glanced to the side to give them a smile.

_L03Y has tipped you 3000 tokens._

"Woah," Jongin took in a surprised breath, the vibrator finally climbing to its most powerful level, "woah user L03Y... that's... a... lot..." he got out between gritted teeth, clinging hard to his focus. His prostate was more than stimulated now and with the chafing of his cock on the pillow as he rode it unhurriedly, he was so _close._ "Oh fuck, thank you," he gasped.

He reached under to grasp himself and get off jerkily. His breath came out in punched out gasps and his hips rolled desperately, erratic and urgent. He no longer cared to put on a show, he needed this, he needed so badly to come. He stroked faster and moaned louder as the vibrator shot deeper when he shoved himself down, uncaring of finesse. His unveiled desperation would have to be titillating enough.

He pulled his shirt up just in time for him to shoot over his stomach, white splattering to his sternum. The vibrator kept going, playing on his sensitive nerves with mechanic mercilessness and he fell back against the other pillow, body spasming and spine arching as much as it could with his jeans still restricting him. His fingers reached to remove it hastily as he could, the aftermath of orgasm making him uncoordinated and unfocused. With shaking fingers he yanked it out and threw it across the bed, spine touching the bed again in relief. His hips kept rolling as the aftershocks coursed through him and he squeezed his thighs together, looking for pressure and yet overwhelmed by it.

He let himself stew in the pleasure a little longer, eyes closed and body thrumming. He came down from it, humming and opening his eyes to the dim lighting of his room. His clothes came off as he rose swiftly to tear them off and let himself lie back down and grab his phone.

"The day has caught up with me.” he said, a yawn coming over him. Chuckling, he swiped to his camera. "But promises are promises." he used one hand to smear his come all over himself and the other to take photos on his phone. There were dozens with slight variations; him smearing the come over his collarbones, him lifting a shiny tipped finger to his lips, eating the globules, smearing it over his lipstick that was perfectly intact.

He wiped the mess away when he was satisfied he had something that would fit his feed and dragged Honey Pooh to him, making a pillow for his head out of teddy bears and cushions. He lay sideways so he could read the screen and properly say goodbye to his viewers.

"That was so good," he said sleepily, smiling. "Thank you gu—oh," shock made a small bolt through him again as he spotted the same user, L03Y tipping him another 3000 tokens. Were they mad? Were they loaded? The first time Jongin could understand, even if it were an unusual amount for anything less than a private show, L03Y was probably horny and wanted to see Jongin come on the vibrator. What was the purpose now? The show was practically over.

Jongin didn't question it long, he was tired and he was least of all going to challenge or raise issues with what was essentially a blessing. The more he made per night, the less frequent he would have to push himself on days work at the parlour obliterated him.

"Thank you L03Y," he said again with a less tired and more dazzling smile, "you are too generous."

"I'm going to shower everything off and sleep. It's been a day," he sighed, burrowing into Honey Pooh’s neck. "You can expect photos on the fan page and a gratis one on my Instagram. Thank you guys for being so wonderful, as always."

He gave a small wave before ending the stream and collapsing face first again in the covers. 

✦

"Morning Jongin," Orlagh greeted as he entered from the biting cold outside, "Chanyeol wants to see you."

"Thanks." he made his way up, rubbing his gloved fingers together and appreciating the heating inside. Somehow the frost had permeated his layers and he couldn't help the slight tremor in his legs or teeth.

Chanyeol's office was ajar, the man himself bent over his desk with a sketchpad, dark pencil tapping a blank page in rumination.

"Hi," Jongin said, giving a staccato knock as he entered.

"Oh Jongin," he straightened and took off his glasses, "good morning. Have a seat."

A million possibilities went through Jongin's mind on why he was here. Was sending him a photo last night inappropriate? Was Chanyeol testing him as an employee? Had his boss somehow discovered the less the couth thoughts of him he had? Had Jongin done something out of line the past evening? Worse yet, had Chanyeol discovered Jongin's primary source of income? His knees bounced in unceremonious nervousness and the rational voice trying to get a word in edgewise of the unlikeliness of all that could not help him or his racing mind.

"Morning," Chanyeol said, observing him. There was something funny in his gaze. "You're shaking." he stood without waiting for a reply and went to the refreshment cabinet at the wall near the door.

"I," he started, turning on the kettle, "am going away. You remember how I told you that we do house calls for our most esteemed clients as well as ones that can't come to us but can pay to have us go to them?" Jongin heard the clatter of a spoon in a cup, "Well, it's time to get back to those. I've got a few appointments in London and house calls across the UK so I'll be flying out in some hours." he returned to the desk with a steaming cup of tea and set it down before taking Jongin's hands, Jongin looking on in taken aback confusion.

He slipped off Jongin's gloves and pressed Jongin's palms together. Then he enveloped them in his own and started rubbing them, his rough skin much warmer than Jongin's. "You sir," Chanyeol said, focusing on creating friction against Jongin's skin, "are going to need these hands, no?" his imposing height was made grander as his gaze bore down on Jongin beneath his nose and tight lips, "You need better gloves. And put your hands in your pockets when you're out in the cold, it may supposed to _be_ spring but spring hasn't come yet." he chided sternly and Jongin was awash with embarrassment and some mildly concerning sized dragonflies. 

Chanyeol replaced the heat of his hands with the hot cup of tea between Jongin's. “You're wondering how this concerns you," Chanyeol said, returning to his side of the desk and leaning back in his seat. Yes, Jongin was wondering. Chanyeol had wandered off to different counties for appointments several times since he started working at Soul Stain, sometimes gone overnight but it never impacted Jongin's work or schedule much (besides the weak pangs he later identified as the realization of wanting to talk to Chanyeol and remembering his absence). "It’s only for a week and a few days but Baek will take care of you.”

"He'll be here 'til then?"

"No, _you_ will be at the other branch for the week."

"Oh."

"You might learn a few things from him. As I've told you, he's not as good as me, _obviously,"_ he rolled his eyes like the thought was laughable, grinning, and Jongin cracked a smile, "however, there might be a few things you can pick up from him." he admitted reluctantly though from the smile still etched on his face, Jongin knew there was no virulent intent behind his words.

"Now," he clapped, voice booming, "I will be in touch and check in from time to time while I'm gone and if there's anything you want or need resolved that can't be done by the others, don't hesitate to let me know." he said with significance, the intensity of it making Jongin feel like he was being made to promise.

"And oh, the other branch is further from your house than ours is and I don't want you getting home too late so I've told Baek to let you go early."

The sip of tea almost went down the wrong airway. Jongin's head was starting to spin with questions, a deep flush taking over him. Perhaps if it were anyone else, it might have all felt overbearing. A cautionary voice offered the fact he’d been through something like this and how even a hint someone trying to dictate his life made his skin crawl but... it didn't, it didn't feel like that with Chanyeol. He felt like he was being cared for right then rather than being told what to do, when to get home and it was perplexing the hell out of him. Did Chanyeol go to all this trouble to look out for all apprentices?

"Sir that's not necessary, I don't mind—“

"What did you just call me?" Chanyeol raised a severe brow, voice deepening spine chillingly.

Jongin's stomach knotted, "Sir... ?"

"Yep. And you know what that means?" Chanyeol's voice was low as a growl without the bite. He bent forward on the desk, still towering but closer and replied without awaiting an answer, "It means I call the shots around here. It's final, Jongin. It's just for a week and I need to know you'll be safe—" he stopped abruptly, as if surprised by his own admission. 

Jongin's confusion heightened as Chanyeol glanced down, avoiding his eyes. When he looked back up, there was a faint flush on his cheeks, a rapid succession of blinks making it seem there was something in his eyes preventing him from looking straight at Jongin. Jongin's lips twitched as he took in the realization; Chanyeol was _shy._

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, iron confidence resuming its place in his eyes and in his posture, "you can head over there after lunch. For now, my promise from yesterday still stands."

"Thank you," Jongin said. He caught the duffel bag sitting by the foot of the desk. "Safe flight and," it was his turn to clear his throat and fidget a little under the spellbinding web of Chanyeol's stare, "come back safely." he finished in a whisper.

"Is that another order?" the corner of his lips lifted, the first hint of Chanyeol’s recollection of their texts the previous evening. 

Jongin nodded, offering a small smile.

"Alright." Chanyeol sighed, "First he wants to take my shop from right under my nose, now he wants to give me orders. Next he’ll want the shirt off my back. Youngins these days."

A burst of laughter tore from Jongin's lips at the ridiculous theatrics and Chanyeol grinned, his low belly laugh twining with his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi~ it's been a while, sorry for the wait. next chapter goes up next sunday so yay for semi regular posting heh :3 this story is growing longer than i anticipated it would and i can't give an exact word count but i'm guessing we're here for maybe a longer haul than the usual one/twoshot. i'm excited for chankai getting even more intimate [though next chapter might feature a little angst] :'D 
> 
> let me know your thoughts bc they make me happy and they're motivating, thank you~ ♡
> 
> as always, come for a chat on [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: byun baekhyun 
> 
> hastily edited so more typos probably

The second branch in the city was named _Stain_ to distinguish it from _Soul Stain._ Jongin was there by lunch, shortly after he bid Chanyeol a final goodbye as Chanyeol rushed out to his car, Orlagh in the passenger to return it once he departed. 

Barely a ‘hello’ was spared for him at Stain, causing uneasiness to curl around him at the frigid welcoming and unsmiling faces. Baekhyun took him to the backroom where his station was, the layout of the shop differing slightly from Soul Stain as Stain didn't have a second floor. He let Jongin work away as he sketched for a custom piece, mumbling under his breath as he went, a short bottle of Jack Daniel’s sitting close by for consumption at irregular intervals. 

Halfway into the hour Baekhyun’s mumbling became slightly less coherent and more coarse. At last, reaching the height of frustration, he abandoned it to rise and come to Jongin's side, having a peak at what he was doing. He whistled and let the breath blow slow from his cheeks in obvious approval. Jongin tried to contain his beam, his belly knitting with pleasure that Chanyeol wasn't the only one who seemed to be impressed with his progress. 

The endorphin rush was quickly dispelled when Baekhyun took his stencil to the fake skin and his much cleaner, neater, and overall more striking design brought Jongin back to the fact that he was still scrapping the tyro deck. 

But learn he did as he observed how Baekhyun set a skeleton of black ink for the tattoo, how he managed more fluid transitions between different parts of the same design, how the colours weaved between grades masterfully, waxing and waning with more subtlety, making a world of difference. Baekhyun’s specialty was watercolour, something Jongin didn't get to practise often. He hadn’t been naive enough to think realism would be just as easy on human canvas as it was to him on regular canvas and paper and he had been correct. He was yet to find the tattoing style he had a particular bent for but Chanyeol, and now Baekhyun’s, confidence in his skills and growth was pleasantly impelling.

Chanyeol said it was important to be jack of all trades while also being a master of one. He was a master of blackwork and despite being the style he gave Jongin the most in depth lessons in, Jongin had picked up from the others, and witnessed himself, how and why Chanyeol was lauded for his stunning realism and neo traditional. The question of what it was that Chanyeol couldn’t do in his field was becoming bigger by the day, the pool of answers smaller. And undeniably, it greater kindled the attraction Jongin was loathe to admit, woe was him. 

“Wow,” Jongin breathed, sounding very much like a schoolboy see his crush do the bare minimum of inspiring things. Except it wasn’t the bare minimum he was looking at—or perhaps for Baekhyun it was—because tattooed on the fake skin in watercolour style was none other than Monet’s Water Lilies and Japanese Bridge, in startling likeness and brilliance of techniques. 

“Is that unintelligent speak for ‘paint me like one of your French water lilies’? I have approximately two hundred and forty nine of them. You can be the fiftieth.” 

Jongin’s awe quickly converted to disbelief, interpreted by an undignified snort. “A bigger garden than average, have you?” 

“Yes, actually,” Baekhyun beamed, setting down his machine. “That’s how Chanyeol and I met, you know.” 

“In your garden of water lilies?” Jongin raised a jesting brow. 

“Yup. His family came over to ours for brunch, some business deal our dads were negotiating and I was painting in the garden when he stretched out in the grass and said, and I quote, “paint me like one of your French boys,”. Apparently he heard from my mom that I’m a painter. The wiring in his brain has always been faulty, if you were wondering.” 

“Oh my god,” Jongin said through wheezes, “what did you say?” 

Baekhyun shrugged. “Nothing. I painted him ‘like one of my French boys’. Turns out the definition of that was just a suspiciously long beanpole-looking entity in a field of green. I think he might still have it somewhere.” 

“You were a painter?” 

“Am a painter.” 

“How did you get into this?” 

“Tattooing? Naturally, as everything since we were sixteen has been, it was Chanyeol’s doing. That same evening he talked my ear off about how tattooing was much harder than canvas and how my flimsy impressionist and postmodernism artists were a poor excuse for talent.” 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah, he was one of those.” 

“What happened next? You guys are still friends.” 

“Well, it was my turn to talk his ear off. Actually—no, I bit his ear, accidentally, don’t ask, and then I told him that surely it mustn't be that hard if imbeciles like him could achieve it. So we had a date set for when I’d challenge him after taking learning how to work a machine and I was god awful but Chanyeol didn’t even think I’d figure that out so victory was mine.” 

“He sounds…” 

“Go on, finish that, this is a confidential area, unless I’m drunk. Then it’s just an area.” 

“He sounded obnoxious.” 

“Oh he was. God, he was. The worst.” 

“He’s not so bad now.” Jongin found himself saying. He held his breath, hoping Baekhyun wouldn’t read too much into it. There wasn’t much to it. Chanyeol was objectively nice. There was no way one would think to a self righteous and egotistic past. 

“He isn’t,” Baekhyun agreed, a tad tender, “but you know what they say.” he looked Jongin dead in the eye with a gleam of devilry, “Once a hard bastard always a hard bastard. Or was it once bitten, twice shy?” there was something thoughtful in the way he studied Jongin. No, not thoughtful. Sharp. A scalpel poking Jongin’s pupil to investigate what lay behind. 

“Yes?” he said unsurely but Baekhyun’s incising attention was off him and fixed on something behind him. 

“You’re free to go now. Chanyeol was rather unequivocal about your finishing time.” he murmured the last bit to himself, a little exasperatedly, but Jongin caught it. He wished he had an explanation for it but it was confusing to him too. Maybe he should ask Baekhyun about Chanyeol’s general treatment of apprentices or if Jongin was perhaps… not _special_ but a new method he was trying out. He did not, though. The sudden discomfiture took over what had been an eye opening and productive evening and Jongin couldn’t shake it. 

Baekhyun let him off with a friendly pat on the back more congruous with how he’d been earlier and a 'see you tomorrow, bright and early' and returned to his sketch. 

✦

Deja vu of the previous day, the minute Jongin entered his front door, his phone buzzed in his pocket and his brows rose as he saw who the text was from. 

> **Chanyeol 18:40**
> 
> evening, I take it you havent met with disaster or fairies? 
> 
> **Jongin 18:41**
> 
> what would fairies want with me
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:42**
> 
> I dont know, lets see
> 
> your healthy organs 
> 
> your young sane mind
> 
> your pretty eyes
> 
> who knows really

Jongin laughed. It wasn’t to disguise the flush the text brought to his cheeks. 

> **Jongin 18:43**
> 
> is everything alright sir?
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:44**
> 
> it is. just checking in. how'd you get on today
> 
> **Jongin 18:44**
> 
> got on fine. i did watercolour with baekhyun. he's insanely good 
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:45**
> 
> day 1 and you've already got a new tattoo hero 
> 
> wounded

Smiling, he shucked off his jacket, blindly hung it on the rack, shook off his shoes and made his way to the couch as he typed a reply.

> **Jongin 18:45**
> 
> dramatic is what, sir
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:46**
> 
> calling me 'sir' while spitting on my name doesn't make you any more respectful you know 
> 
> **Jongin 18:47**
> 
> sorry sir
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:47**
> 
> make amends by stating the truth right now 
> 
> there’s no one in my league 

Jongin could see it now. A glimpse of the obnoxious boy Baekhyun had described. Somehow it only made him smile.

> **Jongin 18:48**
> 
> now why would I lie sir
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:48**
> 
> oh he bites
> 
> ouch
> 
> **Jongin 18:49**
> 
> how are things your side of the pond? 
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:50**
> 
> great actually. did a session with gerard coollen
> 
> finishing tomorrow
> 
> **Jongin 18:51**
> 
> coollen as in the footballer???
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:52**
> 
> thats your lad
> 
> **Jongin 18:53**
> 
> no way!!
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:54**
> 
> want his sign?
> 
> **Jongin 18:54**
> 
> sure??
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:55**
> 
> too bad 
> 
> **Jongin 18:56**
> 
> and here i was told you’re nice now 
> 
> :(
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:57**
> 
> and whos been feeding ya these lies?
> 
> **Jongin 18:57**
> 
> no one
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:57**
> 
> jongin
> 
> **Jongin 18:58**
> 
> yes sir
> 
> **Chanyeol 18:59**
> 
> betraying me is under shit i can sack you for
> 
> **Jongin 19:00**
> 
> wouldnt dream it sir
> 
> cross my heart
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:01**
> 
> not convinced but...
> 
> need to be off now. we’ll discuss what’s in your true heart another time
> 
> don't get in too much trouble now
> 
> translation: you best not forget how wonderful i am
> 
> **Jongin 19:02**
> 
> wouldnt dream of that either sir
> 
> **Chanyeol 19:03**
> 
> knew you were a clever lad
> 
> take care you

He tossed his phone to the other side of the seat, not taking a single second to acknowledge the sovereignty of the stretch begging his lips to be. Chanyeol made him laugh, talking to him turned Jongin’s fibres to helium and his words had some degree of flummoxing charm. He could admit that much. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t. 

It wasn't too late in the evening, he had promised a private show to his patrons that tipped over a total of three thousand tokens. He'd scheduled it for the coming weekend, unaware of Chanyeol's plans to go abroad and inadvertently give him more time to himself but if he could do it now, why not? Those who couldn't make it could still get a recording of the show, or join the inevitable ones he'd do in the future. If they were truly unhappy about it he could offer them a private show as soon as it was feasible. 

Part of building his brand as _Angel_ and earning as much as he could from this career path—that turned out to be his sole bread earner—was expanding and offering more services, going down avenues uncharted by those before him or taking the tips and tricks he'd learnt from others and polishing them to suit himself. The platform he started off on, _Spy,_ was minimal and didn't have many features beyond hosting, either publicly or privately. A few years later he'd moved to _Show and Tell_ which was more developed but by then he was at the apogee of his struggles as an art student, his scholarships didn't cover much maintenance and he had to find something else if he wanted to stay afloat. 

A little digging brought his attention to the extra services he could provide for cash but there hadn't been a primary website he could host those services on. The free coding course he'd taken as part of his extra credit proved prudent on his part, allowing him to make his own website and however basic it had been, he was able to cover what he needed. Screen-capping and recording was disabled by the host sites and Jongin made sure to record his own shows and put them on sale on his website for anyone who enjoyed a particular show and wanted to rewatch at their leisure. 

There was a private gallery of candids he took during and after the shows, of which patrons could buy individual pictures or the whole gallery. He offered exclusive videos that took place outside of shows, their content varying from him making POV 'good morning' scenes featuring his most beloved and realistic looking dildos, to more innocent scenes like sharing a meal with a significant other. Once he had moved to _EyeCandy_ and had become a hit that propelled the site into the number camming site title, he'd been able to do even more, earn an amount that vaulted over a standard wage a standard job would give him. 

He offered merch, as well as limited and exclusive private shows that differed from his usual minimum-tokens-goal private shows, namely introducing one-on-one sessions. The one-on-ones usually happened via an auction on his site over the duration of each month. The highest bidder then got their sole private show. They had to bring out the big bucks if they were going to take up time he could be using to earn from a bigger crowd pool.

Initially Jongin was apprehensive. He thought he might've been reaching for more than his perceived worth and it would drive away clients to the countless other boys doing what he did but whose stars hadn’t aligned yet. Fortunately his patrons ate up the idea and sometimes the total from the auction amounted to nearly the amount he made in a month from his combined shows. 

Truthfully he was doing fine financially. He could certainly afford what was essentially a three year unpaid 'internship'. But the hardships of poverty as a barely legal adult disowned by his family and reliant on the lean scraps of his scholarship were haunting, ingrained into him like unclosing incisions and no matter how comfortable he got financially, there was this edacious need to save, to work, to earn. _Just in case._

He announced the show on Twitter and went to set up his camera and take a swift shower as he gave time to his intended audience to gather. He returned in a towel, moist hair hanging into his eyes and sticking to his nape.

"Hi," he greeted with a small wave, "I guess that's all of us." five of the twenty five private show guests were missing but this was impromptu after all. "What can I do for you today?” 

✦

"You know what never stops being a pain in my ass even after all these years?” Baekhyun said out of gritted teeth. “Fucking hands.” he spat at his page without awaiting repsonse. 

"Now, if you'd just... no too—not that either—just,

"Aah fuck," he finally exclaimed loudly, slamming the pencil down.

Jongin blinked at him, hand a little unsteady as the frustration emanating from Baekhyun slithered around him. The atmosphere in the shop had been a hair’s breadth short of stifling today, as if the iciness of the first day had been but an hors d'oeuvre. 

"Oh," Baekhyun said, glancing at him sheepishly, "you're so quiet today, forgot you were here."

Jongin set down the machine he was just about to start using. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, don't mind that. I'm just trying to get this a hundred percent as I want it. The client is sort of a celebrity collector and her body is basically a temple of a portfolio."

"What do you mean?"

"Some clients stick to one shop or artist when they meet one whose vision aligns with theirs. Some always try and find new people to get inked by. And this client? She’s had work done by some of the biggest names in the country and internationally and let's just say they're all just a tiny bit short of being their magnum opus pieces. I don't want the _Starlight_ piece to be the one that stands out for being the poorest done, especially since this will be her first watercolour work."

"Your work is always amazing, though. I'm sure it will fit right in, if not turn out more outstanding."

"You think so?" Baekhyun pinned him with skeptical pupils and Jongin assured him with certainty. 

"Thanks, kid," Baekhyun eased up, his borderline glare abruptly transforming into a blinding smile that hit Jongin with a rope of whiplash. "I guess I see why Chanyeol likes having you around so much." like the previous day he mused the last bit to himself, picking up his pencil again. This time Jongin’s mouth ran away from him.

"Sorry?"

"You know," Baekhyun gestured vaguely, "besides you being a beginner and him liking the sound of his own voice, you're probably good for his ego huh?"

“I am?” Jongin resembled a baffled owl. 

Baekhyun scoffed and appointed him with that lancet appraisal. A few seconds later of Jongin’s skin peeling from his bones, Baekhyun shook his head and sighed defeatedly. “You know Jongin,” he rose from his seat with his work and came to take the high chair close to the station Jongin was working at. “I can read people as well as I can read myself. And when they’re full of shit, I catch their stench from miles away.” 

Jongin had already paused his rotary but the blood froze in his veins too. What did that mean? Had Baekhyun found him out? Was he going to tell him that he notified Chanyeol and the contract was null? His heart juddered hard in his chest but it wasn’t blood that it was pumping, only dread that filled him like lead. 

“You’re squeaky clean,” he said seriously and Jongin could have dropped dead with relief. “Though there is faint talcum about you.” he added after taking a dramatic sniff of the air in Jongin’s direction. Jongin sighed and tossed a wad of ink stained paper at his head. It hit home. 

“You’re the only one,” he said, repressing another sigh. “I think I stink of bullshit to everyone else from a three mile radius.” 

“They think you’re a sleeper.” 

“A what?” 

“A Sleeper. Wouldn’t be the first time we had one of those.” 

Jongin set his rotary down and walked around to the other side of the table, leaning against it with arms folded as he inquired, “What do you mean?” 

“Think sleeper agent. Competition’s been rough in this industry past few years with everyone and their mother and their mother’s dog thinking they can make it being a scratcher.” he ducked his head, putting pencil to paper as he talked, “And truth be told that’s how it used to be. But it’s even more saturated now so folks do everything they can to get the edge with the market. That means keeping up with the latest equipment, the best sanitization methods, awards, trying to get their avant garde styles to stick and take off, merch, customs, you name it. Any way to stick out.” 

He took a swig out of the Jack Daniel’s— which Jongin had been informed was actually filled with marginally laced apple juice, something to help him combat the recent drink problem he was developing—before wiping his mouth and resuming both drawing and elaboration. “Sometimes shop owners are vultures and sweep the city’s parlours for new ideas, get a glimpse of what others are doing that they aren’t, innovations they can nick, things like that. 

“Now when Soul Stain started making a name for itself and standing out, this one eejit thought to take it to the next level and have a sleeper—a spy, if you will— get an apprenticeship with Chanyeol to steal the ins and outs of his business.” 

A small aghast gasp left Jongin’s lips and Baekhyun nodded in understanding. “Yep. You can imagine the absolute violation of it. Idiot and his bonehead employer are all behind bars now but it was a bit of a fiasco back then. Everyone’s been on their toes since, as you can imagine.” 

“But why would anyone think I’m that… a sleeper?” Jongin frowned, the mild distress that was accumulating in his mind as Baekhyun spoke escalated to full blown horror. 

“Not much that’s your fault.” Baekhyun gave him a shiny, apple-juiced crooked smile. “I think you just remind everyone of Angus—the sleeper.” 

“But _how?”_ Jongin had no history of asthma but it felt like each branch on his lungs were shrinking to impossible size. All these months he had been trying to discern why no one seemed to warm up to him despite his best endeavours in assisting them and limiting the nuisances that came with being a beginner in anything. Meanwhile they had thought him to be a conniving _fraud._ Was this how heart attacks came about? 

Baekhyun stayed silent for a few seconds, considering the question. “I’m not sure about the others but for me I’d say it’s less about how you act and more on how _Chanyeol_ is with you. He was taken with Angus because of his skills too, but of course that was because he wasn’t a beginner at all but a faker. Chanyeol had been really eager to help him learn, talking of a ‘prodigy’ in the making.” his expression contorted in visible distaste and Jongin found himself mimicking it, for an entirely different reason. 

_“The industry would be robbed of a diamond in the rough and I won’t let that happen.”_

Sickness crawled into Jongin’s stomach. 

“But he’s still… he… I didn’t feel—he’s still so nice to me.” Jongin finally got out helplessly, trying and failing rapidly to make sense of why Chanyeol was so supportive and open with him, far from the mannerisms of a man who’d been burnt by the embers he was once again kindling close. 

The distaste and apparent remnants of fury on Baekhyun’s face relented. Something conspiratorial shined in his eyes. “Because that’s Chanyeol.” he said softly. 

The statement stuck through Jongin’s chest, like a needle in a pincushion. That was all Baekhyun said on the matter, resuming his commentated grapple with the sketchbook but the mundane statement stayed with Jongin like a ghost in limbo all throughout the evening. 

  


✦

The conversation with Baekhyun wouldn’t leave his mind. He had been able to compartmentalize, however tentatively, when he started at Soul Stain and absorbed the lukewarm reception from anyone who wasn’t Chanyeol, Baekhyun or Orlagh. That fact he buried in an inaccessible recess that took more than it gave in the dredging up and he had been content to go ‘til the end of days without sparing it a thought. Or, alternatively, as long as he humanely could. 

He had known, on the same level of the human psyche that knows not to reach into a furnace, that examining it would bring out other skeletons to the dinner party and dance on the grave of his sanity. 

He was here now, examining it. Recalling, relating. 

Did the other artists think he was going to abuse Chanyeol’s kindness? He understood that. He understood wanting to protect Chanyeol. Hell, he felt it himself, the rush of blood in his ears as Baekhyun told him what had happened, as he kept thinking of the exploitation he was put through after the earnest effort he gave. If Chanyeol had been half as good to that sleeper as he was to Jongin, there should be ten hells for him to pay. And if someone came along and Jongin suspected they would hurt Chanyeol for their gain, he didn’t think he would be chummy with them either. 

Yet while he understood that, there was a part of him slinking out, ruthless binding whispers, of how it would be the same no matter what he did. 

_“You call this work? This isn’t work, Jongin. You’re selling yourself. That’s all you’re going to do and be for the rest of your life, reaping from unfairness while others grovel for half of what you have.”_

In rationality he knew that wasn’t true. But ration had no role in the rot that eats from the inside and having someone else vocalize the demons that had haunted him subliminally had made it all frighteningly real and ten times more vicious. _You benefit from rewards you never earned_ was what _he_ essentially meant and though Jongin could say it was years since he pondered the morality of his work, that wasn’t the case. It _had_ been years, yes. Before. Before Gavin and everything that came with him. 

It made Jongin flush from the inside out with putrid shame that anyone would think the same of him now at his new workplace. Of course they couldn’t know Gavin and they couldn’t have a clue what he really did to win his bread but it didn’t matter. How did everyone end up having the same perception of him? 

That was not an image of himself he could live with. He wouldn’t get stuck in that snare again. He was going to show them that he wasn’t like that. He wasn’t taking advantage of Chanyeol’s kindness and he wasn’t there unfairly, he was working hard to be apprenticed to him. If Chanyeol was too kind to be any different to Jongin then Jongin was going to have to take the reigns. 

Effective immediately. 

He replied to Chanyeol’s evening texts as briefly and professionally as he could. Chanyeol was confused and it showed but Jongin didn’t let himself think of that. He had come in, all those months ago with his head screwed on good and tight and somehow within hours of meeting each other Chanyeol had been able to unfasten the bolts and slip past the cracks. But no more, Jongin was going to rectify that. 

In the morning before he left for work he’d messaged the remaining patrons about the private show and rescheduling. Two of them had got back to him and asked for the weekend while two others hadn’t written back. The final one, though, and the one that had tipped the highest, messaged him as soon as he thought to bury his new executive decisions in work, as if reading his mind. He had never been gladder to cam. 

“Hello L03Y,” he greeted at his vanity in nothing but a soft, oversized but well loved tshirt. The angle showed a hint of the red lace panties he wore, the only thing adorning his body below his torso, which he made sure was visible enough to recognize and nothing more. “You don’t know how happy I am you’re here. What have you been dreaming of?” 

  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you are frustrated, high five!!! next chapter will be some chankai one on one steam *bangs pots and pans, rubs hands, slaps reflection with dildo* at long last! technically it is monday but it's 1am as i post this so it's still sunday okay. okay? thank you. so next update will also be next sunday! (hopefully) ik it says 5/7 parts but lads. let's be real, this story is *maybe* only half way done so let's see where this road takes us (aka definitely more than 7 parts) (it's been like 2 years since i did chaptered stories. lets. prayer circle for me to finish it thenkkk) 
> 
> thank you so much for your lovely comments on the previous chapter, they made me feel all glowly and honeyed inside and i will get back to all of them soon ♡ 
> 
> as usual, let me know your thoughts bc i appreciate them a lot and come chat on [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)! ♡


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